Kiss me, Baby!
by Chris2035
Summary: Summer and Seth, as a married couple, deal with the joys of unplanned parenthood. A little AU. COMPLETE!
1. First Month

_Okay everyone... this is my first story. In English at least. I'm German. So if the grammar and spelling isn't correct all the time, I apologizes in advance._

_I've been inspired to this story by my favorite book "Küss mich, Baby" by Silke Neumayer._

_I don't own anything about the O.C or "Küss mich, Baby"._

_Rated M, just to be safe..._

_I should maybe mention that it's written in Summers point of view. _

_Enjoy and please review! _

First Month

Oh my God!

Oh yeah!

Yes! Yes! Yeees!

Exactly there! Oh my God!

Seth keeps touching me at that spot! Exactly that spot ... it drives me crazy every time! And somewhere there it must have happened. I guess.

It was usual, good, old Thursday night sex. Nothing special really. Just the way you do it after more then seven years of marriage. Our non-stop-sex-nights had been replaced by non-stop-sleep-nights a long time ago.

Somehow, I presumed, I should have felt something. Some kind of contact to the universe or maybe mother earth.

A pinch in my abdomen would've done it to. But nothing! Nada! Zero! A friend told me, there are women who can not just tell the exact day but the second it happens. Well I guess that chicks also dance naked in the woods, at full moon.

I definitely do not belong to that kind of women! And I didn't notice anything - at least for the first two weeks.

I'm pregnant.

Knocked up.

Expecting.

I've got a bun in the oven.

I'm going to have a baby.

Call it whatever you want - it was a accident - or not, that depends on the way you're looking at it.

But I think every woman would understand me. I'm thirty two years and three month old. I'm living with my husband Seth Cohen in our own little house in a small town called Newport.

Ticktock ticktock ticktock - my biological clock has been ticking so loud, lately, I barley could sleep at night anymore. First I couldn't see what that all meant. Instead of sexy men-butts all I noticed for the last few weeks were were sweet baby-butts.

When I held my cousins (twenty four - basically a child herself)newborn daughter a month ago I actually started crying.

I don't think childless women in their thirties can be designated as sane. Honestly, I think we shouldn't even be allowed to drive.

An article I read at my doctors office kind finished me off. It said that women in over thirty five are basically infertile. And if they none the less wanna have babies they get to take so much hormones - they pop out triplets at least.

I don't wanna triplets! One would be enough at the moment.

I didn't tell Seth about my wish for a baby. He would've probably freaked out. He hasn't been recovering from the shock of me asking him if he ever wanted children.

I never gonna forget that look on his. That time we were dating for a year and fresh out of college. (we used to date in high school, but we broke up after we got accepted in colleges on different coast of the countries. After coming back to Newport we hooked up again and there we were.) We didn't use a condom that time cos I was already on the pill. After I assured him that I took it every day we never talked about having a baby again. He made absolutely sure that I'd take it every day for about a month past that.

Statistics say, that at my age, women need at least a year to get pregnant after stop taking the pill. So I thought, why don't do it now? That also would give me a whole year to prepare Cohen for parenting.

I know he would make a great dad! Once he watched my cousins five year old son.

You can't really blame him for the boy seeing dead people at night after that. The little guy replaced the "Sponge Bob" with the "The sixth sense"-DVD. Technical genius that boy.

No, for real. He would be a great father. He just doesn't know it yet.

So I just stopped being on the pill - without telling Seth.

But that's not the only thing that makes me guilty. After the sex, that specific Thursday night, I did a handstand under the shower.

I once read that this is supposed to help the whole conception thing. And it is kind of logical I think.

When you get up after sex all that stuff - thanks to gravity - comes out again (every women knows what I'm talking about - eww!)

So I kind of designed a elevator for those little guys. And it seems like one of them got out on the right floor.

After that Thursday night I just displaced all of that and acted like nothing happened. Still I flushed my pill in the toilet every morning - and felt like a criminal.

Why don't let the men take that harmful stuff every day? Okay, they'd never do it. Safe sex is still women business. So they can blame us if anything goes wrong. Exactly.

I refreshed my make-up and got into the next mall. South coast plaza to be exact. I got myself a new pair of Manolo Blahniks. I almost cried when I found them. My credit card cried too. And I'm going to receive a letter from my bank. But there is nothing better against bad feelings then a new pair of shoes. Well nothing but two new pair of shoes.

There was probably nothing to worry about anyway. Next month I would start with pill again and have a serious POC with Cohen( problem orientated conversation) about family, babies and so on.

In the meantime I was going out every night - with and without Seth.

I drank about twenty four Cosmopolitans and three bottles of Chardonnay every night.

I wasn't pregnant anyway, just paranoid.

Work really kept me on my toes that weeks. I worked as a Journalist at a not so popular magazine. Watching "Sex & the City" a lot I decided to major journalism. I saw myself as Carrie Bradshaw writing slippery column about the life in Newport.

Well, what I do know is make up stories to snapshots of stars.

Marissa Cooper my best friend celebrated her thirty third birthday that time. Everybody who knows Coop knows that her party's are basically suicide. Only the best survive.

I came home at five in the morning with _a lot _of alcohol running through my system. The whole world was spinning around me. I sat in the empty bathtub and sang _Thank you for being a friend_ noisy, and with the absolute wrong lyrics (I kind of mixed it up with _That's what friends are for_) until a sleepy Cohen showed up. He had to leave "I have an important meeting tomorrow" the party early.

"Come on honey, lets get you into bed!"

He yawned a few times and tried to get the hairbrush, I used as a microphone, out of my hands.

"What if, I don't wanna go?"

"You do want to, believe me. You gonna thank me a lot tomorrow!"

So he pulled me out of the tub and I looked at him. He wasn't shaved and he looked incredible sexy (remember I drank _a lot _that night).

"You don't want it either! But you also gonna thank me!"

"I would thank you if you would come to bed with me now!"

"Can't. I'm sick. But you don't have to worry. That's totally normal because I'm pre--"

That was when I saw it. Blood in my pantie. Little red stains. There was just one interpretation: Not pregnant!

"Oh god... Oh god... Oh god... Oh god... Oh god... ", I'm looking at my pantie.

Cohen is looking at me like I lost it.

"My period."

And then I threw up on his favorite pajamas.

Somehow Seth made it to shower the both of us and get me into bed. I love him. He has definitely father qualities.

I had a huge hangover the next day. I put in a tampon that had the size of a sheep. Darn out like that I took of and got the best satin pajama for Cohen.

Not pregnant. Not pregnant. Not pregnant.

**"Sandra Bullock - not pregnant" "Jennifer Aniston - not pregnant" "Angelina Jolie - not pregnant"**

Wait a second... the last one was wrong. I'm typing faraway on my keyboard. Not pregnant. What did I expect? That it would click after 400 years of being on pill? That I'm a fertility wonder? That this damn column would write itself?

At noon all the actresses and models I was supposed to write about not pregnant and everything was alright.

I'm probably infertile anyway. All those years of fumbling around with protection - useless.

All the condoms, diaphragms, the counting... all useless.

All the money I spend on protection ... I probably could afford a new car by now.

Crab! And nobody tells! How are you supposed to know you can get pregnant if you never were?

It's absurd: You use protection so you don't get pregnant, but maybe you wouldn't get pregnant without protection.

Really stupid the whole thing.

After two cheeseburgers with chili-fries and a milkshake for lunch (I know way to much calories and senseless eating, but it was delicious - I'm just gonna quit eating for the next two years) I was sure to be ill.

Uterus-, ovarian- or bladder cancer. That was the reason.

I would never have children. Never. Over and out.

It's happening to the most women over thirty five. Uterus? Ovaries? They just take space and ignite or develop some other ugly things. Let's just take that stuff out. But most of that women already have babies. Not like me. I could cry!

At 6:00 pm I was fine again. I was happy! I was not pregnant. Wonderful. Caroline and the others are going to a after work-party. And I was coming with them. Drinking, dancing, having fun. Who wants to be pregnant anyway? Ruin your life with some sniveling 1.5 feet?

Resign all the amusements? Alcohol. Sleep off. Wild sex. Spontaneous trips to Paris.

Well everything that's fun. Was I insane to want a child?

Thank god that thing passed by me. Not pregnant.

Well, it's a wonderful life.

That's when I realized I didn't exchange the tampon the whole day without noticing the ugly wet feeling between my legs.

Getting this thing out was a forced a lot of strength. No sign of period. A few blood drops on the top. Really suspicious.

Anya one of my colleagues knocked against the door.

"Come on Summer! Work has ended like three hours ago! Everybody is waiting for you!"

I muttered something unintelligible and checked the tampon again.

"Summer, are you okay? Are you sick? Can I get you anything?", Anya was still jouncing at the door.

"Nah! I'm okay!"

The tampon ended in the rubbish - nothing, no blood.

I flushed the toilet and fixed my skirt. At the party I wasn't really myself.

That means I ran in between two drinks about ninety two times to the toilet to check on my period.

The music was loud and everybody seemed to have a great time.

Anya tried to get me on the dance floor a few times. Sometime I caught her talking about me. Not in a nice way - I didn't care.

Something wasn't right, wasn't right at all.

After another hour of running to the bathroom I decided to go home. And do what Scarlett O'Hara would suggest.

"Let's think about that tomorrow."

The next day I woke up at noon. Cohen had gone to the office quiet a while ago. Today was my day off.

The first ten seconds awake were great. It seemed to be a nice warm summer day and it was my day off. I was lying there with my eyes closed and thought about shopping? Going to the beach? Calling Coop? Get breakfast? My period?

That moment I practically stood in bed. I sleep without panties so there had got to be something. Again: Nothing. Nada. Zero.

Well that didn't look so good. I got up and explored my pantie form yesterday. Clearly there was blood on it.

Okay... not the first time that happened. Maybe I'm just a little bit late because of the way I've been acting the last few weeks. Maybe that was menopause already?

When does that start anyway?

I probably should just go and get something for breakfast.

Somehow I found myself in the drugstore - still with an empty stomach.

Ahead of me was an old women around her seventies. She seemed like she wanted to buy out the whole store. Well maybe drugstores are the Gucci and Prada of old people. You start once you can't stop anymore.

"... please don't forget the heart pills and ... oh the drops for my liver. They really help after dinner... even if my doctor won't prescribe them anymore..."

The druggist opened drawer after drawer and stacked the whole stuff in front of the old lady.

"... did you already pack up the pill for my circulatory problems? ..."

The druggist seemed to get more happy with every order... while I've been waiting for a half an hour already and started to fall asleep while standing.

"And then I get two packs of aspirin and a pregnancy test."

I was up immediately.

Did she say _pregnancy test_? That women was - even with three face-lifts - at least seventy. The druggist packed all up in a big bag and the old lady left the store with a big smirk.

Finally the druggist turned to me: "May I help you?"

I was starring at him.

"The old lady... I mean that woman..."

"The pregnancy test?"

I nodded.

"Unfulfilled desire for a child. People can get really strange. Some women take one every week. Once I had a man who took one for himself."

Five Minutes later I found myself back on the street - with some packs of condoms in my hands. I honestly don't know why. I swear I tried to say: "I'd like to have a pregnancy test" but somehow it just wouldn't pass my lips. I was under shock. I saw myself buying a test every week for the rest of my life.

Anyway there I was, no test and forty bucks less in my purse.

Three drugstores later it had worked out. I owned my very own pregnancy test. My feet hurt like hell. There I was thinking that getting breakfast would be the perfect way to walk in my Manolo's. I limed to my car.

I think there isn't a more moving moment in a womans life. Well maybe the first time of having sex or spend your whole salary on a pair of shoes.

I was starring at this little stick and my whole childhood was running in front of my inner eye. Okay, that was I lie. My brain was total empty.

And then it appeared: One small vertical line. Minus.

Oh my God! Not pregnant! Not pregnant!

I got up and danced in my bathroom. Then I stopped with my little happy-dance. Not pregnant. Shit!

That meant I had to try next month again... ah.. what the hell. Rome wasn't build in one day either. And making a baby is way more fun then having it.

Then I went to the living room. Time for chocolate.

But wait a second - wasn't there a very, very small horizontal line? Nonsense. I threw the stick into the garbage can.

Two chocolate bars later I got up again and digged it out of the rubbish. There was clearly a plus on it.

I slipped into my comfortable sneakers (my feet still hurt like hell) and run out to the next drugstore.

The druggist smiled dirty at me. Fuck! I totally forgot, I already was here today!

"Need more?", he was still grinning and glanced at the condoms.

"No... thank you... I ... I need a pregnancy test. One of every single type you've got to be exact."

He stared at me like I lost it.

"A pregnancy test?"

"Yes! And could you please hurry? I'm busy!"

"Well that was fast!"

Then he put twelve packs up in front of me.

A blue cross. A pink cross. A red circle. Another blue cross... all the sticks are lying in front of me, all with the same result.

I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant.

I'M PREGNANT!

After messing up the bathroom with a little happy-dance I got down on the cold tiles.

How could that happen to me?

To me?

_Review please! A lot of reviews Fast update! )_


	2. Second Month

_Okay, I didn't get as much as reviews as I hoped, but since I'm a nice person (and there were many hits), I'll update anyway. _

_I don't anything about the OC or "Küss mich, Baby"._

Second Month

The rest of the day I spent in some kind of trance. Seth came out of the office very late and fell asleep next to me within a few seconds.

I was up half the night and kept thinking:

Maybe I'm not pregnant, though.

Ninety nine percent certainty. Those damn pregnancy test are probably safer than taking the pill, using a condom and a diaphragm at the same time. Crazy. But still. It's only human to make mistakes. And those test were made by human beings.

Wait. I took twelve test. All have a certainty of 99. What the probability of me being pregnant, then? Screw it! Math was never really my subject.

Around four am I finally fell asleep and woke up with only one thought in my mind: Coop! Coop is my salvation! Coop knows about my worst sins. Coop knows my real opinion about sex with Seth (it's better than I admit, I don't want him to get vain), Coop shared all her men of the last years with me - at least verbal, Coop knows everything about me and I know everything about her. Well almost everything. The whole thing with my wish for a baby and the set down of the pill, I didn't even tell her. No idea why.

But Coop will know what to do! Coop will understand and hug me and I will know that everything will be okay.

Besides, Coop is a designer. She will make me the most beautiful maternity clothes.

Crab! Crab! Crab! Coop is in Canada for business. I didn't even know they had fashion in Canada. And the hotel she's staying at apparently doesn't believe in telephones.

Well, I'm an adult woman.

I'm just gonna cook something delicious for Seth tonight (well I can't cook, but the Italian down the street can), light up some candles, put on romantic music and if Cohen wants to do it on the dinner table afterwards and he won't be able undo my bra again, I'm just gonna tell him: "Honey, I'm pregnant, in spite of being on the pill." And he's going to answer: "I've been gay for the last few years and we are going to share parenting. Sid, my new lover will love that idea!"

Argh! Something will come to my mind. It can't be that hard. First of all I'm going to skip work today and tell them I'm sick.

I'm standing in front of the mirror for hours looking for changes. Some treasonable signs: A round belly, a weird smile or stretching marks.

But I look as always.

Seth's coming home. I'm sitting on the sofa and try to read a magazine. I didn't get very far with my "How to tell my husband"-strategy. I was shopping today. Enjoy my favorite activity for one of the last times. In a few weeks I will have to wear a tent.

Cohen's voice's coming out of the hall.

"Summer? You saw the keys to my car? I think I lost it."

"In my purse! I borrowed your car yesterday, remember?"

Suddenly Seth stands in door looking highly skeptical at me.

Oh my god! He knows everything! He has got radio graph sight. He's looking right into my uterus.

"For what do you need that whole condoms in your purse?"

"Condoms? What condoms?", I'm playing innocent, so I can think of a excuse in the meantime.

"Condoms. Prophylactic. Rubbers. There are at least five packs. Oh... super size... interesting."

He comes towards me, the condoms in his hands.

"Can you explain that to me, Sum?"

Good question. I'm on the pill like forever - well that's what he thinks.

"I... er..."

"I'm waiting."

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

What am I supposed to do? Tell him the truth?

_"Well Cohen, I set down the pill without you knowledge'. That's why I had to buy a pregnancy test in the drugstore. But I didn't had the nerve to go through it the first time. That's why those things are in my purse."_

Probably not the best way to tell him, he's a father-to-be...

I put on my sweetest smile and then I say--, okay smile again.

I'm a good liar. God, I do it for a living, but right know I can't think of anything.

"Oh... that's for Caroline... you know her... from the editorial office? ... she hadn't had a man since like forever... so we other girls thought we just buy these for her..."

"Interesting. You buy condoms because she isn't having sex."

"Yeah we just thought that if she had them, maybe she'd use them sometime... It's nice of you to bring it here, cos I need to wrap it up."

He's not completely satisfied but he seems to buy it.

"Okay, well I'm in my office, if you need anything."

While I wrap up the gift nicely, I remember about Caroline being a lesbian.

Let's just hope she's quitting her job soon and Seth will never come to my office again.

Maybe I should start to think about an explanation, why lesbians need condoms. Often changing vibrators?

Two days later still nobody knows I'm pregnant and I can't tell anybody. Stupid situation. It's like winning the lottery and not be able to spend the money.

I also try to keep down my drinking, which doesn't work out so well because

I'm fucking nervous - worse than the day before my wedding

I get stupid comments at work, like "Oh wait up tomorrow she isn't going to eat anything that isn't from a health food shop" (They don't know how right they are!)

So I sipping with a bad conscience. Most of the time I don't even finish one glass.

Coop still isn't back, but aside from that I think Seth should be the first to know anyway.

Tonight is gonna be the night.

I cooked pasta (the only thing I am able to), opened a bottle of wine (it's really time for me to think about my baby) and put on Seth's favorite "Death Cab"-CD. I love him, but let's face it, nobody is perfect.

There he is. Sitting across the table. In front of him twelve lovely wrapped up gifts. He's looking at them distrustful.

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"It's not my birthday."

"I know."

"Oh no...", he's facing me horrified. "it's my comic collection isn't it? How bad is it? Can it be fixed? Please tell me it can be fixed!"

"Your comics are fine!"

"Okay. Good. The comics are fine."

He looks dark at me. I did something and he will force me to confess.

"Oh noo, it's the Play station, right?"

"The Play station is also fine. It's in the basement where it belongs. Now open up already!"

I'm smiling at him and finally he begins to unpack. He opens the first, the second, the third... then all twelve sticks are lying on his plate.

He looks helpless.

"What's that all about?"

Fuck. Didn't work out.

"Summer, what is that?"

"Those ... well those are for humidity. Because of your headache, I thought we could test it."

Worst lie ever, Sum.

"And that you wrap up as a gift."

I'm completely quiet.

"You wrap them single?"

After a few seconds of silence I just spit it out: "I'm pregnant."

Right at that moment I start to cry like a baby.

Seth is just sitting there like a stone. Then he takes his heels and leaves a big hole in the door.

I swear, that's what I thought for a second.

In fact he just comes over to hug me and dance around in the living room with me.

"Pregnant! Pregnant! Pregnant! Is that really true? I'm gonna be a daddy! I didn't even know I could to that! My God, you will become a Mommy! We will be parents! You're pregnant... great... a baby... a tiny baby... incredible... a baby..."

Then he stops and looks deep into my eyes.

"How could that happen?"

"Well, I thought you know... with all the blooms and bees..."

"I thought you're on the pill?"

There it is. The question I was afraid of.

"Well... I had to throw up last month... and you know it isn't effective then. I guess that was when it must have happened."

"It's okay. It's just kind of unfavorable now. I'm building out the company and there isn't gonna be so much money for the next few years..."

He stops and looks into my teary eyes. His hand is resting on my stomach.

"It doesn't matter! I think this is fantastic, really. The best gift I got, like ever..."

When he kisses me, I don't know if it's the pregnancy or Cohen that makes me dizzy.

I'm so proud of myself. Not only am I a mother-to-be, no, Cohen is also a father-to-be. I told him everything (well almost everything, but who cares? He was happy)

With racked out chest (somehow my breast really seem bigger) and belly (I had a large breakfast) I'm standing in the middle of a bookstore together with Cohen.

Department: Pregnancy and Birth.

Seth's already sunken in a book called "Uterus - Fascination of a Muscle"

I need something to get me through the next months. How about "Nine hard months taken easy" or "Pregnancy - disease or natural condition" or "How to have a baby and keep your shape". There is just too much choice.

A big picture book gets my attention.

"Birth - A miracle in pictures"

There are a lot of pictures. Really realistic pictures. Oh my god! Eww! I feel sick now. That looks terrible.

I want a baby - not being slaughtered. And they want me to do that? No way! I shut the book and put it back as I hear a familiar voice behind me.

"Hi! Oh my god! What are you guys doing here?" Taylor Townsend. She went to high school with us and was into Cohen. Fortunately he wasn't into her. At least, that's what he tells me.

Cohen looks up from his uterus and smirks at Taylor.

If Taylor knows I'm pregnant the whole town will soon. I could put it on the front page too. But me and Cohen don't want anybody to know yet. Besides my father, his parents and maybe Marissa and Ryan.

I also just read in one book that out of 100 pregnancies 80 don't even make it to the fourth month.

So I'm looking straight at Taylor and tell her with a fake sweet voice: "That's for a colleague of mine. She's about to have her first baby and we were looking for a gift."

Taylor really seems to believe me and then I see it. There is clearly a belly under that Gucci sweater.

"Yes you're right." Apparently she caught me. "Six month along. Michael and I are very happy. It only took us trying once... most couples need more than a year before somethings happening."

She throws a concerned look in our direction.

"But if you are looking for something good about pregnancy I can really recommend you this..."

She pulls a book out of the shelve and talks without even breathing for a half an hour. After I send Seth to the cash box to pay she pulled me aside looking at me concerned.

"No offense Summer but you really should start thinking about having a baby. Neither of you is becoming younger. You can't wait forever... ticktock ticktock... fertility gets less..."

If glances could kill, Taylors baby would be orphan by now.

Again. I'm late for work. I'm tired 24/7. So fucking tired. I didn't tell anyone at the office yet. And I need to start finding another excuse. It's just unrealistic that I'm going to some birthday party every night.

Since I still don't have a book about pregnancy I'm in the Internet the whole day. Looking for some info. don't need Google. I just take a word that's familiar to pregnancy and set a .com or .net behind it. Works like a charm.

But if this comes out I have to blackmail Bull. Our chief editor. Bulls Name is actually Henry McKane. But everybody calls him Bull. Because he looks like one and acts like one most of the time.

I got a list with porno sides he visits regularly, it circulates here in the office. But I doubt that this list will be enough to keeping him from fire me.

(Actually that list wasn't created to blackmail him but for everybody's fun. I gotta say I'm shocked what people find attractive. I only brings out disgust in me - and worry about those womens discs.)

Bull tries to get under every skirt and everybody knows it. And as much he likes to do the thing that leads to pregnancy in theory, I don't think he likes the result itself.

He shares that with a lot men.

So I'm going to keep my condition as long as possible a secret at work.

It's time. I'm finally sitting at my gynecologists. Haven't been here for years. I browse nervously in a magazine. I hate going to the doctor. You go in healthy and come out ill.

According to the info from the Internet I'm six weeks pregnant. They have that pregnancy-calender. You just enter the date of you last period and you find out when your gonna have the baby.

Around me there are belly's of every level. One in flowered caftan fascinates me the most. Not because I'm into flower power. No. But that women looks like she's going to explode any minute now.

In the end I lean over to her and ask: "Excuse me. I'm kinda new in that business. Those are triplets right?"

She shakes her head and tells me proud: "No seven months along. It's a girl."

My mouth drops. But before I can panic about how I'll look like in five months my name is called and I have to go face my doctor.

Humiliating. There isn't anything more embarrassing in this world as sitting on a gynecologist chair. But today I don't care! I wanna see my baby for the first time. And as a mother-to-be you just have to overlook that little embarrassment.

All you can see is a dark stain. Unbelievable!

On those pictures from abortion opposer the babies look complete. Just really tiny. And you think: Those abortion-moms are real baby-killer!

And now that: A dark stain. Everything is okay. That stain is my baby and it nestle up very nice. I bring my legs together and get of the chair. Dr. Rosenberg hands me an ultrasound picture before I go.

The first portrait of my baby.

The ultrasound picture gets framed and a place above the couch in our living room. Seth wanted it of the wall at first. He hates abstract art. But know he knows it's our baby I catch him from time to time smiling at it dreamy.

An hour later we lie cuddle up under it and watch TV.

"We could go to the movies..."

"Or for dinner..."

"We didn't see Ryan and Theresa for quite a while..."

"But it's so comfortable here..."

I move closer to him.

"We could also..."

His hands are working their way up my back, teasing me. I really enjoy these moments, it's nice to have still the same nice moments like we had in the beginning.

"Did those grow?" His hands are cupping my breasts.

Our clothes are spread over the floor and Jay Leno watches us from the TV. I'm okay with that. He probably doesn't see a lot of that.

"I think so."

I'm looking at Cohen's hands which are usually my favorite bra but now they really seem to have problems to get everything in.

"Mm mm... that's wonderful ... I love the baby already. Why can't you always be pregnant?"

He dives into lower areas and I return. Baby! There is a baby in my belly! What am I doing?

Rolling on the floor like a horny teenager. What kind of mother am I?

"I can't?"

"You can't what?", Seth mumbles a little bit, he nibbles at my left hipbone - well, not exactly there, but the other phrase isn't really proper.

"I'm a mother!"

"What?"

Seth gets up.

"Summer, please. What are you talking about?"

I'm glancing at the picture at the wall. The baby looks strict down at us.

"Okay. You're pregnant."

"That's the same!"

"Not really... and even if...", his hands are reaching my bud.

"Mothers don't have sex!"

"?", he looks at me, unbelieving.

I nod heavily.

"Summer don't you think you carry this to far?"

"Not at all?"

"Sum, come on! We haven't like forever!"

True. The last time was two weeks ago. Since I knew I was pregnant I didn't wanted anymore.

Seth tries to get us to level three - he knows how to get me there very well. But not today!

I get up.

"Cohen, I really feel sorry for you but you probably can't understand the tender feelings of a mother. A mother isn't hot. A mother isn't rolling around on the floor. A mother is... it's a whole different condition... transcendental somehow... mystic... there is this miracle happening inside of me... we can't just... I can't do that. You and me here on the floor, while that little thing is growing inside me. What will it think? That profane exchange of liquids."

Seth gets up for his pleading. Clearly the son of a lawyer.

"Summer. May I remind you that this profane exchange of liquids leads you to that wonderful condition? I'm sorry but you totally lost it! Have fun with your whole being a mother. Good night!"

With these words he gets a pillow and a blanket and disappears in his office. I know what that means. He's pissed.

I'm sighting. I'm going to be a single-mom.

Sex. Sex. Sex. It's three o'clock in the morning and I just did it with Cohen in every possible way.

There isn't anything like sex after a fight. Cohen snores next to me. An orgasm is more effective than any other soporific. I'm not just Summer, the Mom, I'm also Summer, the sweet little slut (Cohen calls me that sometimes). Oh. And I'm convinced now that mothers have sex. Very good sex.

Today after breakfast I felt a little bit sick for the very first time. Morning-sickness. The first sign of my baby. How lovely! Besides: Coop is back.

When I arrive at our favorite diner in the afternoon she's already there. Perfect. Beautiful. As always.

"Hey Sum!"

"Hey Coop! Nice to have you back. How was Canada?"

I let myself plop in the chair next to her and take off my sunglasses.

She smirks at me.

"A lot of work ... a lot of fun."

"How much fun?"

She holds up three fingers.

I smile at her with admire. Three guys - unbelievable. Coops consume of men extent a lot during the last year.

She's about to become the Samantha Jones of the West coast. No night alone. I'm not sure if I'm jealous or not.

"It wasn't bad. But Canadians aren't so special. I just wanted to try it. Anyway the business was good. What's new with you?"

I look at the menu, which I actually don't need. I always drink a latte.

"Oh... nothing special... Seth's working to much... oh Bull had another blackout yesterday... let me tell you--"

"Okay... tell me what's going on", Coop cuts me off. "I already ordered you your latte."

She's leaning back at smiling at me. Sometimes I think I should become gay and just marry her. Or stay straight and marry her anyway.

"I... I... really..."

Coop's looking into my eyes.

"You cheated on Seth?"

"Not really."

"You got shoes for more than 700 bucks."

I'm shaking my head.

"You finally told your step-mom what you really think about her?"

I'm shaking my head.

"I'm pregnant."

Coop's dropping her cup. After we cleaned everything up, she's looking directly at me.

"I don't believe it! How did that happen?"

"That's what Cohen said."

"Well... how did it happen?"

"Set down the pill."

"Are you crazy?"

"Maybe."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Won't you congratulate me?"

"I would have talked you out of it!"

"I wouldn't have let you... We always wanted children. That's something great, isn't it?"

"Yeah... I'm happy for you."

I'm looking at her with doubts.

"Really. I'm happy for you... or you two... it's just so new..."

"Tell me about it!"

A few awkward silent seconds followed.

It has never been that way between us. Maybe Coop is pissed because I didn't tell her. Maybe I would be too if she suddenly stood in front of me telling me she's pregnant.

And then a mean thought enters my mind: Maybe she's jealous. We often talked about having babies - in theory. And now I just did it - without telling her. Is that some kind of betrayal in our friendship? Maybe I leave a part of Coop behind me? Maybe I just stop having stupid thoughts all the time.

"Ah... what the hell! You've always been the crazy one!" Coop smiles and pulls me in a hug and we order a huge friendship-sundae. I eat the big part of it and we laugh, talk and tell each other stupid pregnancy-jokes. After that I feel sick. Really sick. Able to threw up any time, actually. Well, I really did eat a lot of ice-cream.

_Please review you guys! The button is just below... come on... don't make me beg..._


	3. Third Month

_Thank you so much for your reviews guys! Keep them coming! They make my day, everytime! _

_In this chap, Summers Dad will make a small appearance (more of him later), I changed him a little bit up. Hope I didn't took to many liberties! ;) _

_I hope the characterization is better of Summer, this time. I do my best!_

_Enjoy!_

_I still don't own anything..._

Third month

Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!

I'm still sick. I could puke right away. But I can't have anything of the sundae inside me. I can tell by the contents of the water closet from last night.

And I got the feeling that the alarm isn't working. It's showing 8:00 pm., but I feel like three o'clock in the morning. I just fell asleep two minutes ago.

Cohen shout's out of the bathroom that the alarm is alright and I have to get up now if I wanna be in time for work.

"I can't!"

"Come on, Sum. It's already a quarter past eight. You know Bull's going to freak out if you're late."

"I can't!"

"What's going on?"

"I just can't!"

"What's that supposed to mean? You have to. Didn't you say you have this really important editors-meeting today?"

"I'm still sick."

"Come on. I'll get you a cup of tea. You will feel better soon."

"I don't want to get up."

"Then stay here. I'll bring it to you."

Only two seconds I'm lying next to Cohen's feet in the bathroom and throw up my not even eaten breakfast.

Good morning.

Amazing, what kind of stuff you can find in an empty stomach.

I'm sitting on a lovely, by Seth, set up breakfast table. I really wanna eat, even if my stomach is still on the roller coaster.

Cohen looks worried in my direction and bites then with pleasure into his bagle. Unbelievable. That guy is cruel. Without mercy.

I'm going for peach-yogurt. Ew! That smells like feet. I bet it's gone bad. I let Cohen try it first.

Nope. It's okay according to him, well maybe he wants to get rid of me. There's no way I'm eating that!

Okay. What else do we got?

Let's start with some tea, shall we? I really try it. But that tea smells like bullion. Tea smells like bullion?

Cohen really wants to get rid of me.

I'm looking at him. He probably has some younger, prettier, taller, blond- not knocked up girlfriend and all he has to do now is get me out of the way.

He shakes his head in disbelieve and mumbles something about hormones. He's probably not talking about his.

Now I know what I want. A peanut butter sandwich. I can basically see it already.

"I want peanut butter!"

Cohen probably thinks now that I lost it completely, as I crawl around, with nothing on but bra and panties, on the kitchen floor to look for peanut butter in the lower shelves. I once saw a glass somewhere. Ah. Here right behind the cleaning material. I knew it.

Happy I bite into the sandwich just to spit it out again, immediately.

Oh my god! Eww! That tasted all moldy. I'm looking at the glass.

That one was already bad twenty years ago. I don't even think that the company, which produced that, still exist.

Looks like Cohen will have to change his shirt.

Why should only I suffer. It's his child too!

Two hours and a half a -not puked out -cracker later, I arrive for my meeting just in time. I'm lucky. Bull just looks at me crabby and growls quietly. But I don't care. There's only one thing I care for right now: What's for lunch?

Lunch fell out. I'm still sick. Let's hope for tomorrow.

The next day, I'm still sick.

Same thing two days later.

The day after that, I'm really sick.

Today I don't feel sick. I feel like dying any second.

I living in my very own _My stomach wants to leave my body - _nightmare. I don't know who made up the phrase "morning-sickness". Probably some man who wanted to bring the whole thing down.

As far as it concerns me: I'm sick in the morning,noon, afternoon, evening and night. 24/7.

Right now I'm reading some weird book about pregnancy. "Small discomforts treat naturally". Grumble. The chick who wrote that was probably never pregnant herself.

I take a look at the cover. It was written my some guy. It's says you have to eat sunflower stones. Of course! Even the idea of ... eww!

I don't know how women get fat at all during pregnancy. If I keep going this way, in six months I will look like Kate Moss shoplifting a melon.

In my desperation I called my doctor. She told me to puke five times a day would be completely normal. Comforting. Only if I throw up more often I need to get to a hospital. Comforting, that thought. Really.

I catch myself counting for how long I could still have an abortion. I feel bad immediately. My poor baby. I have to get to the next church and light a candle or something, so it may forgive me.

My baby! The dark stain from three weeks ago got arms and legs. It almost looks like a real baby. I admit, you need some fantasy to see that (okay a lot). Or the loving sight of a mother.

Still: It's a miracle. Inside of me.

I'm sitting on my favorite chair (argh!) and looking on the screen next to me. And in the middle of the usual stain there's another stain flaring around. That's the heartbeat. I start crying right away. I will have baby. Me! I'm still a child myself in some way and now I have that little thing inside me and haven't even realized it really.

I don't care if I feel sick for the rest of my life.

"Oh my god!"

"Oh my god!"

"Oh my Gooood!"

"OH GOOOOOD!"

I know it's kind of embarrassing but in the moment of my climax I always scream for God. I just can't break that habit. Fortunately most men like to be titled that way - and the old guy up there doesn't seem to bother.

Exhausted and sweaty I'm rolling myself of Cohen. It's wonderful to be pregnant. Just wonderful. Incredible wonderful. I can truly say that I'm having the best orgasms of my life. I read it's something about the whole blood flowing through my pelvis.

Well Cohen adds a little too.

Happily sighting I'm cuddling onto him.

"That was nice."

"Uh huh..."

He doesn't sound so enthusiastic.

"Just awesome."

"Good."

Is it criticism swinging in his voice?

"I'm sorry. The next time I think about you again, but now I'm just tired", with that I'm turning around and already half asleep.

He sights and turns around. I guess he isn't so happy with our little arrangement.

It's two o'clock and I'm just finished my burrito. This child is going to be Mexican. Clearly. Even if all the books say crackers and tea would be the best right now, all that works for me is Mexican and really spicy.

On my way back I stopped at the children's department even if I had to be in the office soon.

This is unknown location. I've never been here.

And even now I'm only looking with three feet safety margin.

So cute. So cute. So cuuuuteeee!

But I'm only ten weeks along. I don't wanna jinx it. I'm superstitious.

I leave the store without buying anything. I think that was the first time that happened.

"I'm fat."

"You're pregnant."

"I'm fat."

"Pregnant."

"... but I look fat."

"You look pregnant."

"I look fat... if you look pregnant you don't have that roll around your waist. You've got a nice round belly and everybody knows that you didn't just eat to much.

"But everybody knows you screwed to much then."

That's true.

Still I look kind of fat - the first thing to say goodbye to, is the waistline.

I'm standing in front of the mirror and inspect myself. Cohen's working on some drawings meanwhile.

"You don't give a shit how I and your child look like."

"You don't look fat", he's not even looking up.

"Honestly?"

He stops drawing and looks at me.

"Did you tell him yet?"

Nice change of subject. That's where the son of the lawyer comes out again.

He smirks and starts to draw again.

I give him my new _"I'm your pregnant wifey - please protect me"-_look.

"Why can't _you_ tell him?"

"Because he's going to kill me for knocking up his little daughter. You have to do it. He's your father."

I'm biting my lip. I know he's right.

It's just that my dad is like over-protective. He's gonna drive me crazy and stock me up with all kinds of vitamins and smart tips..

He's like the over-dad. Even with him moving to Chicago he still calls me at least every other day.

Cohen has an easy laugh at. His parents are the perfect parents. Just like out of some TV-show. In the last fifteen years there isn't a holiday the whole family didn't spend together.

I refused to spend any holiday with my father since he married some girl (the third marriage) my age.

I'm going for the telephone fearless.

"Roberts... may I help you."

"Shit!" The step monster III. (He divorced the Julie like ten years ago.)

"Excuse me?"

"Oh... it's Summer. May I speak to my father please?"

"Sure, a sec."

I hear the clicking of Shirley's shoes on the floor.

"Hi honey. I didn't expect you to call. We haven't talked quiet a while."

"Dad... we spoke the day before yesterday."(When I hadn't the nerve to tell him anything.)

"Yeah, right. You telling me your busy and hanging up doesn't count as conversation."

"I have to work from time to time, Dad."

"You call it work to make up stories about strangers."

"It's not like I wouldn't prefer writing for _Times_."

"Then why don't you?"

I'm sighting: "It's not that simple."

"You've always had a lack of motivation."

"I do not! Besides, I kinda like my job."

"You're just hanging around... why did I even let you get those piano lessons?"

"Dad, please. What's that about?"

"... ballet you gave up after a half an year too..."

"Dad..."

"... all of that wouldn't have happened if your mother wouldn't have left..."

"Dad..."

"... God knows I've tried to bring you further..."

"DAD!", I'm screaming into the telephone to shut him up. "Seth and me would like to meet you for dinner, some time. We have news. Will you be in town, any time soon?"

We're meeting in three weeks. He says he can't make it sooner. He and his moll are going onto some cruise.

Cohen and I. (Well actually it where I and Cohen, because he takes that all very easy - who wonders? It's not his belly.)

Anyway. I and Cohen decided that we wanna know it detailed now.

And now I'm under ultrasound in some some special doctors office. The ultrasound of my doctor looks compared to the one they have here like a bike next to a beamer. Above me there's this huge screen - I'm almost feeling like I'm in the I-Max.

The little stain has become a real baby. It has arms, legs and a little snub nose.

"It" floats in my uterus like an little astronaut in space.

The umbilical cord looks like the oxygen connection to the mother ship. And for a second I think it's waving at me.

Cohen next to me wipes off some tears secretly. That's better than Hollywood and Super bowl combined.

And then I see the biopsy needle.

At least a feet long and pretty spiky. Suddenly I decide that I can live with a slight increased risk of handicap. That thing isn't coming near my little astronaut. Why don't they stick somebody else? And that without anesthesia. What sense!

I don't know if I really want Cohen with me when I'm giving birth. We're sitting in our favorite diner and I need a donut right now - for strengthening. Cohen's face is still green and he refused food for the last two hours.

He says I was incredible brave when the doctor rammed the needle into my pelvis.

Well who wouldn't have been if he sees right at that moment how the needle passes my baby closely, and even one little move can mean death.

My child has a fearless mother. But I will have to rethink the whole extraneous sounding analysis in the future.

_Sorry about the spelling and grammar again. I feel like it's getting worse with every chapter! lol_

_Review please! Thanks in advance!_


	4. Fourth Month

_Thank you so much for your reviews! I love them! _

_Okay here, with delay, the fourth chapter! If there are any questions just email me!_

_I don't own anything... _

* * *

Fourth month

Ommmmm. Ommmmm. Ommmmm.

I'm doing yoga. I've been visiting a pregnancy yoga class. Supposedly it keeps you from having negative thoughts. And I really can't afford any other.

I got a direct connection to my little midget. It realizes more of the world outside every day.

I'm a proud mother. And it's time to share my happiness with the world. The results of the amniocentesis have arrived - everything okay. Thank god.

I cried on Cohen's shoulder when we got it. It's said so easy... I'm a modern women, I won't get a handicapped child... only the others have those.

A bad result would have triggered a tragedy. Honestly I don't know what I'd done.

It's really a bless (those words come easy over your lips when your pregnant - even if you didn't see a church from the inside since your wedding seven years ago).

So who do we have there, I'm browse through my address-book.

There is my cousin Jenny (two kids, one and seven years old). I'm sure she'll be happy for me.

"Pregnant? You? Are you completely insane? You're messing up your whole live! ... boom ... rattle I gotta go. We just got into world war three here. Call me when you had it... If I'm still alive then... And I always admired your independence."

Well. Not everybody can fall into tears of joy. Let's see who's next? Yeah: Zach Stevens. We dated for a short time in high school but since our break up we're really good friends. Purely platonic of course. He was into comics just like Cohen, they even created their own in high school. While Cohen sticked with it and started his own company, Zack is now a member of the congress. He's also quite successful.

"Pregnant? Oh my god, you of all people. I never thought that of you. The world is overpopulated. Didn't you learn anything in college? In twenty years the earth won't be able turn because theres so many man. And now you had to do your bit..."

Well, he's probably still pissed because I choose Cohen over him.

Doesn't matter. Uncle Sid will be next. My favorite uncle. Convinced bachelor with unbelievable wastage of women.

"Pregnant? Well, I hope the guy will marry you. If not he can just book a room in the next hospital!"

Oh, Uncle Sean. He's a darling. He still loves me like he did in the past when I was a little girl and he took me with him on his motorbike.

He set a wedding deadline till I'm eight months along. If Cohen wouldn't marry me by then he wanted to break him both arms. That's when I told him that we had a happy marriage for seven years now. Somehow he just forgot that fact. Besides... if he did I would have to feet Cohen and the baby. He was never very practical.

Claudia is next. She's an former colleague. She's been working freelance for a year now. She said she couldn't take the "bad vibes" in the office.

"A baby? You guys are brave. That's gonna be expensive. 80 000 till it graduates high school. And I didn't even include rate of inflation..."

Thank god she had to hang up. Her husband just arrived home and his aura looked horrible. She had to work with the rock crystal there.

Okay, now Joanna. Joanna York. We shared a tiny dorm room in our first year in college. She works at wall street now. The contact got less after we graduated but I'm sure she'll be happy for me.

"Pregnant? That's great! Really fantastic! That's _the _connection to mother earth."

She's happy for me! I can't believe it. Finally!

"When is your due? Mid of march? Oh dear..."

Pause.

"Really bad, really bad. It's going to be Pisces. Bad timing. Couldn't you do any better? I would have helped you to find the right time. After all you Leo and Seth's Capricorn. Pisces just don't fit at all... that's going to cause problems. Well, maybe the ascendant can save you..."

When I start to think about having the baby four to five weeks early, so the sign fits, she has got to go. Important stock exchange.

I've got enough. I hang up the phone and decide to go to bed as it rings. Anna Stern. Anna is Cohen's ex-girlfriend. I know that sounds kind of weird but we really got along great. They split up because of their missing chemistry and because Cohen fell in love with me... but all of that was in high school. She moved to Pittsburgh after that. When we got married she was my bridesmaid. In college we vacationed together. (Two weeks in Greece with some crazy French - I don't think I would've survived that without her.) We haven't seen each other in ages. She told me she was on journey through and wanted to meet.

"You're pregnant? That's fantastic. That is great news. I bet you really happy... since I got my little one everything is more fun than it was before... It's gonna be awesome, believe me... I feel like I am the luckiest women on the planet, I'm sooo happy for you... how about we meet tomorrow night! I so have to see your little belly!"

When I go to bed then and Seth's wraps his arms around me, his hands resting on my stomach, for a few seconds I'm also feel like the luckiest woman on earth.

World's just perfect as I lay here, Cohen snoring next to me, the baby sleeping inside of me.

I can see my baby eating all the stuff I ate today. Two Bagels, Three portions of fries, a huge banana split, two muffins and a barbecued steak with the size of a cow.

It drops itself in the banana split and loops everything eagerly. It grows and grows. And so do I. Cohen tries to use the covers as protection of my growing body. Useless. I'm getting to fat for the bedroom. And everything keeps on gowning. My whole body. I'm busting the house and then I'm floating over Newport like a big hot air balloon. With a scream I'm bursting.

That's the moment I wake up bathed in sweat.

With shaking hands I'm going into the bathroom. The bathroom scales tells me I've put on two pounds. And at least eighteen are about to follow. How I'm going to survive that? I used to have a figure.

But my boobs really look great. Better than wonder bra and a boob job combined.

Feeling a little bit better I'm going back to bed. They should invent a pregnancy that keeps your belly flat. We've been sending people to the moon since thirty years now and at the end of this I'm still gonna look like I swallowed a pumpkin. That figures! Men! It's about time we get more women into research.

It happened! My favorite pants are too tight. With a lot of force I'm able to pull the zipper all the way up. But if I do so, the baby isn't so delighted.

Aside of the problem of having no maternity clothes yet, I can't hide my belly for much longer.

That means I have to tell Bull soon. He's probably gonna fire me right away. And since I work freelance there's nothing I could do about it.

Oh dear... I gotta tell him. I've weaseled myself out of telling him for the last few hours. It's eleven o'clock already. I should make up something about Julia Roberts but everyone knows that he has the best mood in the morning. I get up determined. My child has a brave mother. A mother which faces the evil.

Exactly.

I'm in front of Bulls door as a crying 7 feet tall guy comes out and disappears in direction of the men-washroom. The new intern.

Oh, I almost forgot, I have to copy something really important and I go back to my office.

I thinking about letting Julia have twins another time as I smell a pushy perfume.

"I'd just tell him."

"Tell what?"

Joana is standing in front of me and smirking. Her and me are best foes. She had an affair with Bull and didn't miss a chance to teas me. Her little bitchiness stopped when her relationship to Bull ended and he tried to look under my skirt in the weekly editors meeting. She must have worried that I follow in her steps and turn the tables.

"You _can _wait for the contractions to set in."

Joana moved along and turned around after two steps, looking at me.

"Maybe he'll notice himself that your columns are full of babies. You created twenty two marital and forty five illegitimate babies in the last two months. And don't forget about the quintuples in the Arabian royal house. _Have fun_!"

She sings the last two words and leaves ass-shaking.

"You sexless, no, sorry, you sexless and infertile bitch!", I scream those words through the entire editorial office.

Everyone is looking at me. Well, the rage blackouts didn't get better with all the hormones circulating in my blood.

After that I tiptoe the way to Bulls office. I knock and get in. I'm sitting on a small chair in front of his desk. Dateless trick. But effective You are supposed to feel smaller then the boss.

He doesn't seem to notice me at all. He's typing and on the phone at the same time. London. Paris. Tokyo. Life as chief-editor must be great.

Who and who, who at all and how much is the divorce?

I'm ready to leave again, as he, still typing and on the phone, bawls at me:

"What's up?"

"Err... nothing, nothing at all."

Somehow I'm sounding like Madonna in the early years, when she felt like a virgin.

"Raise is impossible..."

"That's not it..."

"Then what is it? Just tell me! I'm busy!"

That sounds good. Apparently he's talking to Paris and London at the same time, still typing.

"I just wanted to tell you that I made coffee... and..."

He looks at me like I'd gone mad. His eyes look tired. Very tired. He's gonna snap any moment now so I just tell him.

"... and I'm pregnant. And I know you can fire me right away cos I'm freelance and everything but I really need this job. Until the birth and right away afterwards. My husband doesn't make that much money at the moment..."

My voice turns into a high squeak. I could get into a competition with Fran Drescher.

Bull gets out of his chair and looks at me with flashy eyes.

Waaah! I'm dead!

Am I insane, telling him I'm pregnant?

Five minutes later I'm lying covered in a cashmere plaid on a fucking expensive and fucking uncomfortable designer couch and starring at the ceiling.

Bull comes in with a cup of Chicken soup in his hands (from the delicatessen store across the street).

"You need to rest now. That's really important!"

Bull looks ecstatic at my belly, until today he just looked ecstatic at my boobs.

"A baby. In there. Amazing."

He tests the soup before giving it to me - can't be to hot. Then he looks at me bashful.

"Could you... I don't wanna be intrusive, my wife and me have been trying for years... could you bring a ultrasound picture tomorrow? I'd love to see the little thing..."

I'm nodding and wondering (how is Bulls wife supposed to get pregnant if his sperm is out of the office all the ... not my problem).

He leaves, not without making me promise to take a ten minute break every hour.

Outside I hear him yelling that nobody is allowed to disturb me. A mother-to-be needs calmness. I really don't know what to think about that. As Joana comes in, asking me if I need anything, I know what I think about it. That's great.

Joana has been drafted to be my personal feel-good-assistant. She's supposed to get me chicken-soup every day. Good for the baby. The only bad thing - I hate chicken soup.

Pink flowered bedclothes. I didn't know that there are women who wear something like that. I also didn't know that there are women who get so fat!

I'm in the middle of a popular and expensive maternity-clothes-store.

Do those designers think women lose every sense for fashion because of hormones?

The whole thing probably works like "I'm fat and unattractive - so what the hell?"

And if you think about it... two hundred twenty three dollars and fifteen cent are not to much for a pink-colored flowered six-men-tent.

Looking at it biological and evolutionary you already reached the target of lingerie, high-heels and mini-skirts. You need all that stuff for attracting the right hubby and having babies with him.

Why wanna look attractive at all? This kind of clothes are for preparing. Pregnancy is a time of change. Nothing will be the same after it.

Woman becomes mother.

Wonder bra becomes nursing-bra.

Heels become Jesus-Sandals.

Gucci skirts become tracksuit-pants.

Maybe it isn't so a bad idea to prepare for the nice things to be over.

I'm escape from the hell of bad taste, right into my good old South Coast Plaza.

What are the odds? I'm leaving the mall with some imitation leather pants with a elastic waistband.

I'm pregnant.

I'm sexy.

Let it know everyone.

Say it out loud, I'm pregnant and I'm proud.

I put on my new maternity-pant together with my newest Manolo's (Four inches heels - I just hope I don't fall and hurt the baby).

Cohen pets my little belly and kisses my neck.

"You're the hottest mother-to-be I've ever seen."

I'm all smiles. I love him. He'd probably say the same if I lay in the delivery-room, bathed in sweat for twenty hours.

We're going out. Into the most fanciest restaurant of the city. We couldn't even afford it but my Dad is invited us. We wanna tell him today.

I'm not sure he'll like the word Grandpa. It just doesn't match with his designer-suits and designer-live.

And there she is: My step-mommy. Shirley. 29 years old. Blond (typical). Blue eyes (also typical). A waistline like Barbie. In a fucking expensive white slack suit. Next to her I feel like a mop withing minutes.

I hate her. Okay I'm bitchy I admit it. I guess most women don't like their stepmothers. But a stepmother who's younger and looks a lot better then yourself is just to much. But if I'm honest I hate her the most for having a PhD.

Dad wants to fill up my glass with wine but I cover the glass with my hand.

"No more for me. Thank you."

I'm looking hostile at Shirley.

Okay... she looks better. But I'm fertile.

Okay... she's a doctor and I graduated college with pain and misery. But I'm having a baby.

My self confidence just went up for a few points. I'm kicking Cohen against his shin under the table.

He clears his throat.

"Well, we know life is a gift and today it kinda feels like Chrismukkah... To cut a long story short... Summer's pregnant."

My dad looks at us confused for a second. I'm preparing myself for the worst. He's going to freak out. Kill Cohen or worse.

But then he smiles.

"That's wonderful. Summer and Seth. A baby."

With my mouth dropped I hear how my father orders a bottle of champagne. Ooookay... he was kidnapped by aliens...

Then he turns back to us.

"Well, we all _do_ know that life is a gift. And I think today really feels like ... Chrismukkah. We didn't wanna tell anyone but", he's reaching for Shirley's hand "Shirley is pregnant too. We didn't want to tell anyone because she's only two months along but in that case we have to celebrate together."

My dad beams with joy. Shirley beams with joy. Cohen beams with joy. And somehow out of politeness my corners of the mouth go up too.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

I'm starring at Shirley. My nails claw into Cohen's hand and a soundless scream escapes his lips.

This woman is out of plastic. She won't have a baby, she'll have a baby doll. One those with batteries that cry when you raise the left arm and pee when you drop the right one.

"It is wonderful. I'm so delighted for you guys."

I bring these words with gritted teeth. Seth's hand is probably bathed in blood by now. After that I drink two glasses of champagne in a row. My baby has to forgive me. But I really have to daze my wounded self-confidence to get through this night.

How to you breastfeed with silicone-tits anyway? Does the baby get some of the gel together with the breast milk?

And what happens during the pregnancy? Do they explode?

My father isn't ashamed for anything. Oh my God. Not only do I have a stepmother who is younger than me. That is already a hard blow for a woman in her thirties.

But my baby is going to have an aunt or uncle who is younger than itself. How am I supposed to explain that to my little one?

When I was a kid the world was alright. Uncles were age-old men with beards and aunts wore womans-suit and heels and smelled like perfume.

My baby's uncle is going to wear diapers and the aunt will play with a rattle. Great new world.

At the end of the night I say goodbye to Shirley with a peck on the cheek.

"I'm so excited your gonna be the step grandma of my baby."

Her smile freezes.

Well at least a little triumph on my side. She might me younger and prettier but I'm not gonna be mother and grandmother at the same time.

Pink. Pink. Pink.

Barbie dolls, little dresses, barrettes, bathing suit with frills. A doll house with tiny furniture.

I'm browsing through one of the uncountable baby's-equipment-catalogs.

It's going to be a girl.

We got that result with delay.

A girl.

When I told Anna about how I wanted my Baby's room to be pink and chock-full of dolls, she gave me a lecture about feminism. But I don't give a shit. I just gonna have so much fun to play with that things myself. My girl will also be the proud owner of a plastic horse. It's a tradition after all.

And aside from all that pink stuff I will show her how to break a wild horse, win the noble prize of physics, drink men under the table and get what ever she wants. Alright.

Cohen is excited. He wants to teach her how to play play station and everything about comics. I guess I will have hard time to not let her become a geek.

His clenched fist comes down on the breakfast table. My decaf coffee swashes harmful.

"Oh no. That can't be true."

"What going on?"

I'm looking up of my pink bubble.

"Calf's controlled by there hormones."

I'm just looking at him.

"Water polo players."

"Still ... not clicking!"

"I'm talking about boys. All of them going to want date her. And all just looking for one thing. But not with my little girl!"

I have to apply the emergency-break right now.

"Honey, don't you have to go to the office? It's almost 9:30."

"What? Shit! I have a meeting in five!"

With that he disappears in the hallway putting on his jacket.

Before leaving he sticks his head through the door: "Promise me she won't be allowed to date till she's twenty one and has to be in bed every night at ten o'clock. Alone of course."

I'm nodding with a big loyal smile.

I'm leaning back with a cup of tea in my hands. Thank God I'm not sick anymore. I have enough time till I have to go to the office.

A girl. Isn't that wonderful? Isn't life wonderful?

I would have taken a boy too. But if I'm honest: I secretly hoped for a girl.

* * *

REVIEW, please! ;)


	5. Fifth Month

_Not one review at all:( Was is that bad! I can also stand negative review! _

_So, here is chapter five. Hope you enjoy!_

_I still don't own aything._

Fifth month

"Do you think the baby notices the sunshine?"

"I have no idea."

Coop is lying topless, like her parents made her, next to me at the pool of her parents. They are in Europe for a few weeks and she's the house sitter. The fridge is fully stuffed.

Some girls have all the luck.

"I'm just saying, I don't know if it thinks that we have night all day long or it notices the difference."

"Sum, please. I'd like to read on."

"You're not reading. You're just looking at the pictures."

"Sum, please..."

She turns her luxury-body around. She looks like a model out of the high-style magazine in which she's reading.

I'm topless too and let the sun shine onto my belly. Nobody would think that I'm a model. Pregnant or not. I'm just to short.

"Maybe it's to bright in there. Sun's getting more aggressive every day... and baby's have a really sensitive skin. Would you give me the sunblock?"

"Grumble, grumble..."

"That's only factor twenty. Give me the other one!"

Coops grumble gets louder as she hands me the 65.

I put it on and set my Gucci-sunglasses on my belly where I assume Honeys head and keep on browsing through my Parenting magazine.

"Oh my god!"

I draw up on my deck-chair within less then a second and spill up Coop's cocktail.

That can't be true.

"I need contraception, like right now!"

"Sum, may I remind you: The damage is already done. You're pregnant... you should've thought about it earlier. Fuck. I need a new drink."

"I'm going in, in a moment. I'll get you your drink but now listen. I need condoms. The pill during pregnancy. Anything!"

"You've lost it completely."

"Look here!"

I show her an article out of my magazine. Coop looks incurious at a women with a round belly.

"She's pregnant... So what?"

"She's having two."

"That happened before..."

"Yeah, but it says she was pregnant five months along when it happened again... it's some kind of medical wonder... she was ovulating... Oh God."

I'm counting'. That could take a while.

"That women has been pregnant for fourteen months! Fourteen months! I need condoms right away!"

Coop looks at me.

"There you go."

She gives me a baseball cab.

"What's that?"

"A diaphragm for giants."

Her humor is sometimes a little bit hard to understand.

"I'm serious!"

"Me too. Put that on. You've got a sunstroke."

"I don't... But just imagine that! I could get pregnant again."

Coop gets up. She has the hottest boobs I've ever seen. And they will stay that way. Mine will need a refurbishment after breastfeeding.

"Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. I'm sick of it! All you can talk about these days are babies, diapers and belly's. There are other things going on beside you having a baby. And they don't get less important just because your pregnant. Pull yourself up!"

With that she gets up and jumps into the pool. I'm still starring at her.

What the fuck?

On my way home I almost ram a women with a buggy. She doesn't has to walk in the middle of the street though. Typical case of over-mother. Those women think "I am a mother - so I am". Maybe Coop is right and I'm turning into one of those.

If I think about it: When I was single or part of a DINK (double income no kids) I never went out with women who had kids. Those women couldn't drink anything and had to be home by ten because the babysitter wanted to go out herself. Maybe it's time for me to expand my circle of friends.

The only problem: I don't know any mothers.

Maybe the cleaning lady out of Cohen's office. She's Mexican, around fifty and has five grown-up sons.

Or I could drive against every women with a buggy I meet on my way home...

Five days later I'm sitting in the living room of a mansion in Beverly Hills.

Across from Holly. To be exact: Holly and her three kids Heather (2), Hope (5) and Heath (8), who do creative stuff a few feet away.

Holly and me went to high school together. Before Ryan showed up and I fell for Cohen her, me and Coop were inseparably.

On my hunt for mothers(to-be) she came into my mind like rescuing angel.

We didn't have contact for ages and to be honest I could hardly remember her face. But I'm hell-bent to find a friend who lets me in on the secrets of motherhood.

I'm leaning back in the white cushions (see, white _and _three kids do work out).

In front of me a cup of decaf Latte and a bunch of mini-muffins.

Everything should stay the way it is. For the first time I get that sentence.

Holly was delighted to see me again and she fell into cries of joy when I told her I was pregnant.

"My life is really filled out since I have children."

I nod and get myself another mini-muffin. I eat for two after all.

"You gonna be so happy believe me. Are you two married anyway?"

I nod again. You don't talk with your mouth full. She leans near me.

"Good. Very good. You know, dear if men realize that babies are noisy their will for bonding minimizes right away."

I nod again and reach out for another muffin.

"I have a wonderful life. A huge mansion, two nannies, a cleaning lady and a lot of time for facials, golf and riding. Having kids is just wonderful."

I keep on nodding for the next hour till a man in a very expensive business-suit comes in. Followed by a woman with a not less expensive womans-suit that's a lot tighter.

"Hi Honey."

"Hi Honey."

He gets a peck on the cheek and the woman a warm smile.

"May I introduce you: That's Summer, a friend from high school. Summer that's Ronald my husband. And that's his lover Jazmin."

And while I'm worrying about my ears the two sit down next to us, drink their Gin Tonics and talk about the next big charity event.

When Holly sees me to the door she puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me close.

"See marriage brings a lot of pros. Ronald divorcing me would ruin him. And this way we live together in a nice house and go on vacation once a year with the kids."

I'm already in the car as Holly leans in through the opened door.

"I'm not so innocent myself. You have to come by next Wednesday to meet my salsa-teacher Enrique. It's really worthwhile. All my friends think so."

Coop! I miss you! I love you! I wanna be your friend even if I pop out five other brats. I'm never gonna mention my condition to you again. Babies? What's that?

When Cohen comes home at night he finds me crying on the couch.

"Where were you?"

"In the office..."

He's about to go on, when he sees the tissues and my red eyes.

"Oh my God! Is it the baby?"

I'm shaking my head and he sights relieved.

"But why are you acting like Marissa?"

"I'm not - sniff – acting like Marissa."

"You do too."

"You're cheating on me."

"How did you come up with that?"

"Admit it!"

"Summer, we had a really rough meeting today and I'm fucking tired. So could you please cut that crap?"

I howl.

"But you will cheat on me!"

"Summer your hormones are going crazy."

"Yours will too! When we don't have sex anymore you will hire a sexy assistant and her skirts will get shorter every time."

Cohen gives me another tissue and does the only right thing. He puts me and Honey into the hot-tub and joins us with a cool beer. We have quite a nice night after that.

But he'll get problems if he hires an assistant with a short skirt.

More than sixty pounds. I heard of a safe source (whispering at my doctors office) that a woman put on more than sixty pounds during her pregnancy. Think about that! That is more that the half of my weight before the pregnancy. That means I'd double my half within nine months.

"You're working on a big headline?"

I'm nodding and mumble something like of course.

Bull smiles and sets a cup of chicken soup down in front of me. I hate chicken soup. In the meantime I feel sick (even if I don't get sick cos of the pregnancy) from the pure thought of chicken soup. I even get sick if I'm looking at a feather. Cos that makes me think about chicken and that makes me think about chicken soup. And I have absolutely no idea how to come out of that chicken soup pool.

I don't know what to do. I don't want to be rude. It's well-meant by Bull. But a half liter of chicken soup every day, that's more than potted plant in my office can take.

Its blades are getting all yellow already.

Bull goes happily his way. Not without touching my belly.

"Brings luck - say the Italians."

I don't think he ever touched a woman that harmless.

The phone rings.

"Editorial office _Famous._ What can I do for you?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

I'm about to hang up as I hear a husky male voice.

"Are you alone?"

I'm leaning back in my chair. This should be interesting. I hadn't had a dirty call in quite a while. Let's see what that guy brings on. I start looking for my pipe. It would get every eardrum to the climax.

"Yes... why?"

"Great... can you talk?"

"Fluent... since my second year of life."

"Fantastic... I have a huge thing for you."

There we go...

"Are you interested?"

"I'm always interested in the huge things..."

"Great... wonderful"

He starts to breathe heavily.

"Something would come out for you too."

"Oh really?"

"But this has to stay between us... nobody can know. How about we meet tonight in the Hilton-Hotel?"

"Both of us?"

"Yes... the others can come to us later."

"The others... interesting."

I put the pipe into my mouth.

"Of course we can talk about every position ... I'm very flexible at that point..."

Okay that's it!

I take a deep breath and...

Triiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

At the other end of the line I hear a vague:

"The editorial office of _Vogue_ is looking for a..."

I swallow the pipe. Then I spit it out. Unerring on the back of Bernie's head. I take shelter before Bernie sees me. He's so vengeful.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

There it goes! The chance of a lifetime. Buried by a pipe. Typical! I just hope my baby doesn't inherit that.

"Holy shit what was that?"

A thin voice comes out of the phone.

"I don't know some trouble in the line..."

"Well like I said. The editorial office of Newsletter is looking for a editor. And we think you would be perfect for the job."

Vogue wants me. Unbelievable. They want me. Me!

I'm so great.

I'm fantastic.

I'm terrific.

I'm the best.

I'm the right one.

I'm pregnant.

Shit!

I didn't tell him that I'm pregnant. I have a interview next week. Maybe they wanna hire a pregnant women. Sure. For a sixty hour job in which you have to travel all the time. Who knows? I've seen horses throw up. (No I didn't but what the hell.) Nothing can make me feel bad today. Cos they want me! Me!

BABY GAP - the mecca of all hip mothers(to-be). I usual buy pajamas and lingerie here but today I'm going upstairs. I want to be the first one to by something for my little Honey.

This heaven you can find in the middle of South-Coast-Plaza. They've got tiny denim- and leather jackets. Sweet little socks with _I love you _on them. Caps with bears-ears. This really is heaven.

I leave the store with two big bags and a overdrawn account. I don't care. My first baby spending spree and I spend more then I usual do with my favorite designer. But I got a whole baby-equipment now. Including a sweet little denim-jacket. Yeees!

I spend the rest of the day with wallpapering our bedroom with articles about famous, successful, mothers:

Madonna at the top, Susan Sarandon, Cher, Anne Leibowitz (with 56! I guess she has got enough hormones for a pigsty in her blood), Hilary Clinton, Cindy Crawford and even Liv Hurley that --- again - none of my business.

Those women have all a glorious career and are mothers. A little voice in my head tells me that all that women already had a career and nannies before they got knocked up. But I can ignore that little voice today.

Cohen thinks my new wall-decoration looks a the room of a teenager not like motivation for a prospective journalist. I take all of it, under the threat of a sex-strike, of the wall and get myself a album where I can put that stuff in.

Shit. What am I gonna do? My panties are twitching. I should have put on my little black thong like Cohen suggested. That thing looks good and is good luck. But five month along are five months along.

I got the most important job interview of my career in a half an hour and I'm gonna be late cos I have to drive through the entire city. And now that stupid thing twitches.

I already almost lost it yesterday when I was looking for an outfit which conceals a fifth month belly without making me look like a construction worker. A empire-minidress for three hundred dollar did that. I just forgot to get super size panties with it.

I guess the trucker who delivers food to the groceries store had nice pelvic sightseeing when I tried to pull of my pantie in the car under a lot of weird wrench.

With my luck I will have a cystitis in no time. In college I felt very erotic to go out without a pantie on. Right now I just feel fucking cold.

And I get a lot colder when I see who's coming at me. Three guys and a woman! Help! I thought that's just a job interview!

It doesn't goes so well around here. Dr. Elizabeth Helmsman (that's her actual name) grills me right away.

I start to sweat and slip around on my uncomfortable chair. After a while all I can hear is the noise of my heartbeat. This isn't good. Why am I nervous? I'm confident usually. But right now I could really need Valium. I couldn't take it because of the baby, but it really would help.

So I just do the oldest trick against stage-fright.

I imagine them in their underwear.

I screwed up. The thought of those people in underwear while I sit there with nothing under my skirt... I just fell into hysterical laugh that wouldn't stop for at least five minutes.

The rest of the interview just sunk in some kind of fog.

A voice reaches wakes me up like a foghorn.

"Fantastic really! Fantastic!"

One of the guys parks in the same direction as I do.

I'm still a little bit dizzy.

"I was good?"

"You were sensational - do laugh at the point when the chief editor told that unbelievable boring story about her first job. No one of the applicants did that. I'm sure you got the job. I'll call you as soon as possible."

We're standing in front of my car as a black something falls out of my purse during my search for the keys. I can't pend down. The skirt is short and there's nothing under it.

But the guy, all gentleman bends down and hands me my favorite black thong.

Thank you!

Stretch marks. Stretch marks.

I'm standing in front of the mirror, inspecting myself. Those will become stretch marks. There and there and there.

Cohen showers and sings.

Well his weight didn't change. Although he said he put on two pounds. Solidarity. But those are not there because of solidarity. No. He just ate a lot of the food my Granny brought.

I on the other side get fatter every day. That's why I grease and massage myself like possessed.

Cohen comes out of the shower.

"Stretch marks", I mumble.

No reaction. He starts to brush his teeth.

"Stretch marks", this time I say it a little bit louder.

Again no reaction.

"Streeeetch maaaarks!"

He heard me this time, but I'm not sure he understood me.

Men don't know what cellulites is (in doubt, some weird, ugly abdominal thing), so how are they supposed to know stretch marks? The big sister of cellulites...

"What's that?" He spits out some toothpaste.

"There and there and there." I point at my TA's (my troubled areas).

"There are those ugly things that develop through the expansion of the skin. It's impossible to get rid of them. They only get brighter."

"I don't see anything."

Typical!

"Here look! That thin line. It looks red."

He comes closer.

"Honestly Sum... I don't see any red there, nor black or white."

I sight. Okay not stretch marks yet, but I'll have them soon enough. On the other side, just because Cohen can't see them doesn't mean it's not there.

Coop needs to take a look at that. Shit. Impossible. She made me promise not to talk about the "you know", anymore.

"If you say so." You've got to be diplomatic sometimes. So I start to put on the lotion while Cohen looks at all the tubes and cans in the bathroom.

He takes one into his hand and looks at it, just to drop it with a rattle.

It did probably bite. It's only for pregnant women anyway.

"Forty-eight bucks?"

Before I can stop him he takes another one.

"Sixty-four! Have you gone mad?"

"What can I do about the price policies of those companies?"

I know I can only convince him with logical arguments.

He grabs one can after the other.

"Forty-six, seventy-eight, EIGHTY-NINE, fifteen - well that was a cheap one...

He sits down on the edge of the hot-tub very slowly.

"You ruined me... oath of disclosure... marshal..."

"You want me to look like before after the pregnancy don't you?"

"Yes. But not if it bankrupts us."

"Beauty is expensive."

"Your beautiful without that crab!"

Oh my sweet dewy-eyed darling. He has no idea what I put on for the last few years. Men only see the result. I don't think they even wanna know how it's done.

Cohen gesticulates wildly with his arms.

"All of this stuff has to go! It's just to expensive. We have to save some money."

"Are you mental?"

"Summer you're not bringing in anything for quite a while, and my company is still in expansion."

I'm sulking.

"Summer, please don't act like a little girl. There are millions of women in this world that haven't even seen a tub of lotion in their entire life. They'd feed there babies for a month with that stuff you're rubbing onto your backside."

I screw up my mouth. I know he's right. BUT: If we would sell Cohen's comics on ebay we could buy a whole African village. Ha!

"I don't care! I rub on as much as I want to!"

I cross my arms in front of my full boobs and stick out my belly controversial.

"You'll see. You'll life a wonderful live without that crap. Women did it for centuries!"

With that words he throws one of my tubes out of the opened window.

Boom!

I gotta say I'm surprised I smashed him on the floor with only one slap. Well I put on four pounds already... no wonder. I've become a heavy weight.

I got Cohen an ice bag immediately and apologies ed like a hundred times.

That was a rage blackout combined with crazy hormones. The Summer I know would never hit him.

Not on the nose at least...

In Texas a women killed her husband during pregnancy and was acquitted. Temporary insanity.

So Cohen really was favored by fortune. Even if he doesn't see it that way right now.

We really made up after he telling me I could have all the cosmetic I want and me promising him a new flat-TV of our joint money. (I made the better deal, but don't tell him!)

When we lay in bed together later I still feel guilty. I just hope I'll never ever slap my baby. And if I do I wanna be struck by lighting.

I kiss Cohen on his bruised nose. He laughs. Suddenly he all thinks the whole thing really funny. I hit the lights and cuddle closer to him till I get up fast.

"Oh my god! What's going on? Something isn't right. Something flutters ... I need to go to the hospital... my baby... my poor baby..."

Cohen smirks, well I think he does. It's dark so I can't really tell.

"Summer everything is all right. It's just the baby kicking... You've been waiting for this for months... Mom told you how it would feel. Don't you remember?"

Really it's kicking. I just fell in love with Cohen all over again. It feels amazing. Like a butterfly inside of me. And then it stops yet again.

_Review please! Pleeeaaaase! The button is just below!_


	6. Sixth Month

_So much reviews! Wow, you guys! Thank you so much! They got me so inspired, that I already finished the next chap!_

_To the question if you really can get pregnant during pregnancy, yes you can, it's just really rare. - Luckily_

_And no I'm not gonna stop, after Summer gave birth. It's just that the story will end there. _

_I've got a sequel in process of planning. _

_I think we all know it now: I don't own anything. _

* * *

Sixth month

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

What if I realize two months after giving birth that I don't wanna be a Mommy? What if I drown in a Bermuda-triangle of diapers, burbs and baby-bottles?

Why didn't I think about that before? Is there some kind of baby exchange-guarantee?

"This one cries to much, I'd like a model that sleeps 24/7."

You can test every big purchase you buy. You get test drives if you wanna buy a car, you even move together on trial. And if you don't like the music your partner listens to, you say goodbye and hit on somebody in the next music store. But a baby is for a lifetime. More than a lifetime. It's worse than a marriage. Who believes in eternal fidelity these days? It's said so easy at the altar and five you years later you tell somebody else the same.

Everything is just a stage in life. But how's that supposed to work with a child?

"That's Perry, my period-of-life-son."

Oh my god! That's _the _idea! I _so _have to start my own business.

_You wanna know if you can be a good mother? Test it. Satisfaction or baby back._

But you can't do that with real babies... maybe dolls or robots...

* * *

Coop brought me back on the carpet. We've already got that... Baby dolls that cry, pee and need to be feed. It's supposed to get teenagers to use contraception. Damn!

* * *

"Katie."

"Like Katie Holmes? That women can nothing but hold still during intercourse. And you wanna name my daughter that? No. No way."

My daughter. Hear. Hear. But he's right. That woman is terrible.

"Lilly."

"Er..."

"Marget."

"Marget Roberts-Cohen. What? Do you want to torture her?"

"Okay. Okay... Adrienne... I definitely like Adrienne."

"Mary."

"Sofie."

"Paula."

"Kathryn."

"Hope."

"Fear."

"Helena."

"What if she's ugly?"

"Jenny."

"That's what the dog of the neighbors is called. Rose."

"Over my dead body."

If we keep going like this I may fulfill Cohen's wish and just kill him.

Our little girl won't have a name till she's twenty one. Or her names gonna be Anne-Marie-Katie-Jessica-Kathryn-Isabel-Tanya-Sofie-Sarah Cohen-Roberts. And if she's old enough she just picks out a name herself.

She'll probably spend a lot of time with her shrink, too.

* * *

"Look at that."

Cohen shows me a magazine cover. There's a baby with very long hair. It's probably a wig or maybe extensions but he has just fallen in love. Hopefully he'll take a bald baby too.

Since he got me pregnant Cohen's john-lecture did get a lot more intellectual. In the past all he read were comic-books.

It's ten o'clock at night and I'm lying in my bed. In the past this were the time were I styled myself up to be at the hottest party at midnight.

I'm so tired these days, the only parties I could visit are brunch-parties. And those shouldn't start before noon.

Cohen looks dreamy at a baby-picture.

"In half a year we will have a little brayer like that ourself."

"Not in a half a year. We'll have it in at least seventeen weeks and four days. Maybe we should start to think about a room and pacifier and stuff..."

Cohen looks at me in shock.

Another reason why men don't have babies. They would just miss the due day by oversleeping. I on the other practically count the hours.

Pregnancy isn't that great. It's not just pure amusement. Quite the opposite. It's hard work!

"We'll go to _Pottery Barn _next week. I promise."

Yeah... he promises that since over a year now. We wanted to buy a new couch for the living room.

"Lana?"

"What?"

"We gotta decide for a name. This little girl is almost there..."

"You're so right sweetie. So right."

With those word I turn off the lights...

"Tara... that sounds kind of majestic don't you think..."

Snore...

* * *

I could rent a room at my doctors office. I'm here all four weeks. And I'm lucky that I didn't get some complications...

Besides that the little Honey down there arises and presses against my stomach. That gives me bad brash. And after every going upstairs I breathe so noisily you could think I just won the New York Marathon.

But for my little Honey I take all those minor ailments. I'm just thankful for being spared of hemorrhoids and varices, which are not so rare during pregnancies.

But I won't complain. There are a lot of women who have to spend their entire pregnancy in bed. I guess they never thought that get laid once maybe means you have to lie forever.

* * *

Everything okay. The baby is fine.

I'm not so much. I wear yellow latex-gloves. The kind you use for washing-up. Only that I haven't turned into the super-housewife... No, I try to put on flesh-colored elastic stockings. I wouldn't get them on without the gloves, my doctor told me. And she's right.

I can't remember a moment in my life I felt less sexy then now. For being on the safe side I locked the bathroom. Every relationship needs its little secrets.

My doctor prescribed me those stockings. Because the threat of a thromboses. Cos Cohen in me fly into vacation. Hawaii. Two weeks. Last chance.

In a few weeks no airplane takes me with it. Cos what captain wants to stopover because a women gets into labor.

I wanted to do a adventure vacation in Uganda. But suddenly Cohen was a little bit worried (usually he told me that pregnancy is a total natural condition...)

I also suggested back paging through Asia or touring through Australia with the car...

Well Hawaii is nice too.

* * *

Fifteen big belly's. Unbelievable it's like all the pregnant women of California go to vacation in Hawaii... And all won't just one thing. Enjoy the last few weeks without a braying package... A second honeymoon. Alone with Cohen. Sun. Beach. And Sex.

I'm so excited.

* * *

I'm so bored.

I'm feeling like a beached whale. I lie here all day and just change my position from time to time.

Cohen does sport (yes that's right Seth Cohen is doing sports!). I tried to keep up with him but after one serve and falling out of the sailing boat I decided that the way from our room to the restaurant or the beach is just enough...

No sign of romantic or honeymoon. I'm tired and I got brash. 24/7.

But at least Cohen is fine. He met this super thin and super tall chick from New York during sailing.

Now they spend all day together.

"We're going for beach volleyball!" She shouts at me.

"Come with us!" Cohen invites me.

"No thank you! I've got my very own volleyball here!" I'm pointing at my belly. "I just finish reading my book! ... Have fun!"

I don't think they even heard the "Have fun!".

Of course I could go with them. But I'm afraid to fall or the ball hitting my belly. And watching makes me jealous of all the models in their tight shorts and tops.

I'm sighting and go on with my reading. "Every baby can learn how to sleep".

I feel already banned.

Burp instead of beach volleyball.

Buggy instead of BMW.

Baby bottles instead of Cocktails.

If I think about how much fun Cohen has right now I keep thinking if it wasn't unfair to not ask him if he wants a baby at all.

But men just don't have a biological clock while women have this time bomb inside...

Maybe he isn't ready to replace the non-stop party with non-stop stress.

Maybe he would go better with a wife that is younger then me.

Maybe I shouldn't base our future on a lie.

Maybe I stop thinking bullshit and get my ass into the pool.

Maybe Summer, maybe.

* * *

I'm back at home. The last night at the hotel was pretty nice. There are a few specific position I still can do, even if I don't move so well anymore. I bet those bitch from New York isn't able to do those!

This guy from _Vogue_ called today. They want to do a second interview in about three to five weeks. Looks like I'm short list.

That's great! All I need now is a Summer-double without a blown up stomach.

Maybe I just have to eat more. If I put on 40 pounds nobody's is going to notice my belly. But I guess they'd rather hire a mother-to-be than a fat woman. It's Vogueafter all.

I also could put on a chador and tell them I convert to Islam... I just gotta think of something.

They, presumable, won't believe me if I tell them I swallowed a basketball.

It's so typical. Men don't have to chose between career and family. For women it's the most important question, right after "What shall I wear today?".

I don't know one single man who ever had to worry about getting his job back after his wife gave birth. They also don't have do worry how to get there weight back.

Let's face it. If Cohen had a job interview and would tell those people, his wife is seven months pregnant, everybody would be delighted. A man who works hard to support his family. Applause!

* * *

Why can't we just lay eggs? Even the egg of a ostrich isn't as big as a whole baby.

That would be very practical wouldn't it? You just sit on it while driving or watching TV. And for traveling there would be a heatable suitcase.

And if the baby comes out after nine months it would just get up and grab something out of the fridge.

But what's reality. Nine months pregnant and after that ninety years of: "Mom do..., Mom pay..., Mom make..."

Well I asked for it!

* * *

I get some lukewarm gel onto my stomach. We are at Doppler-ultrasound today.

Cohen sits next to me and holds my hand. We both wanna watch baby.

But first of all we wanna now if everything is okay with Victoria (Cohen's favorite) or rather Lilly (my favorite - it's nicer, isn't it?).

And there she is. With her thumb in her mouth. Almost waving at us. _Hi mommy. Hi daddy._

The doctor hits a few buttons and we look right into her brain. Two kidneys. A liver. An empty bladder. The doc tells us she just peed. Into the amniotic fluid. You could also say into me. Great. Now I'm a toilet, too. I better don't finish that thought...

"Do you know the gender?"

Cohen nods and I open my mouth: "It's a female."

The doctor looks at me for one second before falling into laughter.

"A female!"

Now what's funny about that? I keep my mouth shut for the rest of the ultrasound while Cohen and the doctor crack stupid women jokes over my belly.

Typical male.

* * *

_You know the deal... many reviews fast update! _


	7. Seventh Month

_Thank you so much for the reviews! I can't tell you how much I love them, so please keep them coming! _

_I've got a little job for you guys: **Suggest names for baby girl Cohen!** I just can't seem to find a good name... so please help me!_

_I don't own anything._

* * *

Seventh Month

"I just don't understand how you even consider that!"

"Why? No one would let the dentist pull out a tooth without anesthesia..."

"Now, that's different."

"Why?"

"Cos you're going to miss something wonderful!"

"What's so wonderful about pain and yelling?"

"Forget about the pain for a second... all you have to do is breathe... breathe in ... breathe out..."

The guy sitting across from me, starts to pant like a dog.

"I just don't want to!"

"Don't queue up! Millions of women did it before you!"

"Yes and thousands died during the process."

"Don't be so negative. That's not good for your baby!"

"I'm not negative. I'm just realistic..."

"You just have to relax and abandon yourself. It's just like sex."

"Just like sex? No wiener is as big as a baby! Even if some men would like that!"

"Did you think about your little Honey once in a while? With a cesarean she just gets pulled out into the cool neon light in the OR..."

"Maybe she'll be happy to take the short form... you don't like traffic jam in a tunnel either."

"You again! A cesarean just isn't a real birth."

"That's the idea in the first place!"

"You'll feel terrible afterwards! Ask other women... depressions for weeks... they didn't feel connected to their child... didn't feel like a mother... My wife had all her babies at home. In the bathtub. Just a midwife and family. While listening to relaxing music. And you really notice it. Our child's are a lot calmer then others."

In front of me sits a expert to the subject of birth. Luke Ward. 33. Threefold father. We know each other from high school. He was a water polo-player who used to beat up Cohen. But they became really good friends after he discovered his Dad was gay. Long story... anyway, we met by a coincidence and when he saw my belly he insisted to invite me for a vitamin cocktail.

I take a sip while he keeps going on about his three births.

* * *

Ryan told me later that Kelly, his wife, put sleeping pills into his beer the last time, the contractions set in. She drove to the next hospital and had the baby with an anesthesia. She probably was sick of the wonderful home births in the bath tub.

* * *

Cohen wants a soft birth. Preferably a home birth.

I don't want a birth at all. I suggested that he has the baby while I'm going on a trip to Paris.

There is a wonderful book Kirsten gave me during her last visit. "The miracle of birth". She also told about giving birth to Seth. Thirty eight hours of contractions, plunger, blood, sweat and tears.

She said at the end she didn't care if he came out alive or dead. The main-thing was to get him out at all.

I don't think she really forgave him, till today...

* * *

"Terrific - the way you do that!"

I bang my boobs together, in a way that would make Cohen and every other guy really happy.

e feel the floor of our pelvis. It's the word of the hour. Till today I didn't even know my pelvis has a floor.

There we are. Ten women with different size of belly's. We're doing some kind of belly dance. Somehow I landed in a esoteric prenatal class.

But all classes are booked out so I'm happy to be in one at all.

I'm not afraid of giving birth.

I'm not afraid of giving birth.

I'm fucking afraid of giving birth!

Well maybe those guys can calm me down. I let my pelvis circulate. Can't be bad, right?

A strict looking women in her sixties, she reminds me of a sergeant not a midwife, asks us to tell something about us.

Rose is first. Rose is thirty and expecting her second baby. She looks so chunky and healthy that I really asking myself what she's doing here. She'll pop her baby out within two hours and go back to hay harvest afterwards.

"... after forty eight hours I was dilated five centimeters only and the doctor already wanted to do a c-section but I struggled myself against it and hung on. But it was just terrible. I'm afraid it's gonna be the same this time. I do all my practice and get acupunctures but..."

"Why don't you just get an anesthesia this time?"

Everyone looks at me.

Total silence.

What did I say?

"Why don't you just get a gun this time?" Maybe that's what they understood.

"I'm just saying... it would hurt a lot less... I've been told..."

The midwife looks at me pity full.

"Some women do it naturally."

"A injection in the spinal cord. No way!"

"That's no real birth!"

"You don't feel anything at all."

"Is that what we want?"

"No!"

"Doctors are devils!"

"Exactly!"

"Women had babies for centuries without that stuff!"

Ten faces looking at me with horror and disgust.

"I'm just saying... I'm afraid it might hurt so why don't..."

I just can't keep my big mouth shut.

Again silence.

"In theory..."

Silence.

"You've got to get through the pain, otherwise you shouldn't have babies at all."

Okay - that's it! I grab my stuff and I'm outta here. May these chicks feel as much pain as they want to, but without me!

* * *

I think nothing in the worlds splits us some much as the subject of birth.

I'm not telling anyone anymore that I consider a cesarean. Cos the few times I did they reacted like I just told them I want to quarter Honey.

It's interesting that every men I told about, agrees with me... besides Luke but he doesn't really count, cos he's is an idiot.

If men would be the one to give birth there would be a complete pain free technique by now. Or they wouldn't be any births at all. What man would push out a ping pong ball out of his wiener (which is the right criterion in my eyes)? That's right! Not one! They would just get a sterilization.

But they expect us to have babies like back in the dark ages...

* * *

"Three weeks left."

"It's a little bit more, Summer. Your due is not until..."

"I'm not taking about the baby, jackass. I'm taking about my job-interview with Vogue. It's in three weeks."

"So? That's great?"

I'm looking at Cohen. Men are clearly from Mars. Maybe they're of a whole different solar system.

"That's great! Am I supposed to show up there with that belly?"

"Why not?"

"Cohen, were do you live? Nobody hires a pregnant women these days. And even if... how I'm supposed do handle that? Baby's, cry, shit and get sick..."

"Uh hu..."

"I think I just cancel the interview... or I show up in a bunny-costume. That would distract. I could also tell them that I will hire five nannies that care for the baby 24/7 and the only baby I take care about is my new one. Called _Vogue._"

"Good idea!"

"Or you could do the child-care. There is maternity-leave for men you know... It's not so unusually these days."

"No good idea!"

"Why not?"

"Cos I make more money than you."

"Not if I get the job..."

Cohen is starring at me. He's sweating like a pig.

"A child needs its mother."

"And its father."

Touchè. Show me how you get out of that one.

"I can't sit at home all day. I'll go crazy. We never agreed on that! You just can't ask me to do that, Sum! She's your daughter!"

"It's okay, Cohen...", I get up and grab my purse.

"Where are you going?", he's looking at me concerned.

"Getting a bunny-costume."

With that words I close the door behind me. If women would talk such crab like he just did we wouldn't have any baby's. That was just classic men-talk.

But I really can't ask him to give up his job. After all it was me who set down the pill.

Without his knowledge.

* * *

A few days later Cohen is still insecure because of our little fight. He keeps on having phone conversations behind closed doors. I know that one. He's talking to my father. Getting tips how to handle me.

At that subject they like it each other. Just let me screw something up and they are best friends. Right now he gives him a lot of smart sayings like:

"Let her bawl!"

"Don't spoil the child!" (He missed that boat years ago!)

* * *

Oh, and I don't have to get myself a bunny-costume. Those guys from _Vogue _rescheduled the date.

Hopefully that'll happen a few times, so I'm thin again when we have the interview.

_Alexis 555-701-234_

I just found that note in a drawer of Cohen's desk.

Alexis?

Who's Alexis?

And for what was I looking in his desk anyway?

A lot of very good questions and I can't answer one of them.

All I know is that I don't know an Alexis and Cohen better doesn't too.

I was looking for his life-insurance-policy. Just to check if me and Honey are taken care of in case something happens to him.

Shit! I just should've asked him. Now I feel like a stupid sniffer.

And I can't also can't ask him about Alexis...

_"Who's Alexis?"_

_"What Alexis?"_

_"The one who's number is in the upper drawer of your desk."_

_"What were you doing at my desk?"_

_"Dusting."_

_"Dusting, you?"_

_"Yes me."_

_"Inside of the drawer...?"_

No... I clearly wouldn't get out of this one.

I'll just forget about her and take a bath.

* * *

"Hello? Hello, somebody there?"

I drop the handset noisy. No wonder. I just got out of the tub and am still all wet.

I just couldn't stand it in there anymore and had to call that Alexis. And some Alexis really answered.

She sounded very attractive and very young.

But now let's forget about her! Cohen loves me. I'm going to make myself a sandwich.

Red Hair. And Cohen's rolls around with her. No wonder. We didn't have a sex life for the past few weeks... And if we did then just stupid spoon-style.

Ouch.

I just cut my finger.

* * *

"Blond hair."

"How would you know?"

"I just know it!"

"Sum, take a hot bath!"

"Already did!"

"Then it was too hot."

"I was only in for three minutes."

"You're hysterical."

"Am not!"

"You're pregnant."

"Yes, but..."

"No 'but'. First you just saw buggy's and baby-bottles everywhere and now your neurosis found a new object."

"Coop, the note was real."

"Summer, I'm in the middle of a meeting here... We have a major-crisis! There are people with reals problems here, you know. Call me if you catch him with some other women in bed, what won't happen, because he loves you. So get yourself a cup of tea, put on some _Mozart_ and take your vitamins!"

Click.

She just hung up on me.

Coop just hung up on me.

She's crazy, thinking I'm crazy.

I need some vodka! Something to calm me down. Well, I guess I have to stick with _Evian_.

Whatever! I just have to get out of here.

* * *

The lighthouse is jammed that day. A lot of beautiful people in designer outfits. I wear tracksuit pants. The only normal that still fit. I'm also the only woman around here with a little overweight. All the others are more underweight. I don't care. I produce life. Or at least a somebody to pay my pension.

I wedge myself into a corner, not without almost threw some glasses of the other tables.

I order a big piece of chocolate cake with a lot of cream and a meat loaf. My eating habits are still weird sometimes.

I'm just going to forget about that whole crab. Coop is right. I'm hysterical. In another month I probably start crying if a horse kicks a horse in the northern Mongolia.

I eat a piece of my meat loaf and shove a bit of cream into my mouth when I notice another cutie.

Five tables away. Black suit. White shirt. No tie. No jewelery. Expensive watch. Sassy handsome. With a even more sassy smirk.

Brad Pitt left Angelina Jolie.

George Clooney dyed his hair.

Robert Redford got cloned thirty five years ago and that's the result.

I didn't even know that guys like that exist.

And he's looking in my direction. That's at least what I imagine.

Oh my God. What's that beating? Do they still redecorate?

Wait a sec. That's my heart. What's going on with me? I love Cohen! And Cohen has some Alexis number in his desk.

He smiles at me.

Maybe there's a nice picture at he wall behind me. Nope. Yellow wall.

On my left a couple making out. On my right a couple fighting. Maybe he's amused by that.

He peers! That's it! Poor boy.

Okay let's just smile back.

His smirk is getting wider.

Yes! A man is checking me out! That didn't happen for months! Well since the belly is visible.

Now I know what's going on. The tabletop covers my stomach. From where he sits I look like every other women. Not like a ton.

That's brilliant! If you wanna feel good as mother to be you just gotta come here and hide your belly under the table.

I feel like a new woman. I'm sexy. I'm hot. I'm nervous.

Shit.

Then he gets up. Probably home where eight naked models are waiting for him. Well, it was nice to feel at least for a few seconds like before the pregnancy. I bite into my chocolate cake for comfort.

"May I sit with you?"

The cake spreads over the table like a Jason Pollock.

All I manage is a small nod.

"You know I like women who can enjoy. Most women sit there with a bottle of Evian for hours. And who already put on weight if they just look at a cake. May I invite you for a piece of apple pie?"

I nod again - spineless.

If he'd know the real reason for my excited appetite.

We talk for two wonderful hours. But then I feel it. More and more.

I've gotta pee. Right now. Get me a bed-pan. Get me a catheter. I don't care.

Sebastian - that's his name - talks about everything under the sun and it isn't just nonsense.

"...and that was when..."

"Ouch... yeah interesting... ouch..."

"Is everything alright?", he looks at me concerned.

I nod slowly. Honey just kicked my bladder. It's about to explode any minute now.

Sebastian goes on talking. He still sounds clever.

"Blablablablablablabla..."

"Yes... yes"

It's no use. I don't even understand him anymore. I need a toilet. Now. Right now.

I put on a charming smile and get up.

"Would you excuse me for a second?"

His eyes are par with my belly. He looks like I just pulled out a chain saw and run amok with it.

I smile at him brave, while going through the tables.

"I'll be right back, then we can go on talking."

When I come back Sebastian is gone. Of course. What did I expect? As soon as a guy sees my belly I turn into a neuter. Not that I wanted in bed with him. I love Cohen. I can imagine sleeping with somebody besides the father of my baby. There're probably women who have no problems with that, but there's no way I could do that.

When I sit down I notice that he already paid the bill. He also left a little note with his phone number. He apologizes. His pager. He wishes me luck with the baby and I shall call him when I had it. Or if I wanna talk sometime.

Hey, that guy isn't just good looking. He's also nice.

Now I'm invisible again. Time to go home.

Cohen has some Alexis-number - I flirted. I think we're even.

So I paddle home happy. To my darling.

_Review please!_


	8. Eighth Month

_Thank you so much for you reviews. As promised - here's the eighth chapter! I hope you like it!_

_I don't own anything!_

* * *

Eighth month

It worked once so why don't try it again.

I just misplaced the interview into the lighthouse. It's worth a shot. I told them something about unbent atmosphere and stuff...

And for emergencies I've got a cup hidden under the table.

* * *

"Would you like to have kids one day?", Dr. Helmsman is smiling at me. 

I know this question is illegal, but if you other thirty, they'll just ask it.

"Kids? Me?"

"Yes."

Wacky question... if I say 'yes', she'll think I get pregnant after one months of working and if I answer 'no', she'll think I'm a unfeeling bitch.

"Maybe. You know ...kids are something wonderful ... but I'm still young... and the general tendency are elder mothers... they just don't fit into my career management right now."

Unfortunately that last sentences is so true. If I'm honest it'd never fit. That's the reason most women defer it as long as possible. It never fits, unless you make it fit.

Oh what wisdom. And that from me, who hides her belly under the table.

Dr. Helmsman disappears a half an hour later together with her assistant.

But my chances are good... her assistant told me that while flirting with me.

I tell you that place is magic!

* * *

Ouch. 

I just walked right against a bottle of water. It falls down noisy. It's almost midnight and my eyes are squares. I've been watching television the whole day. I know the TV-program inside out.

I dread to think of sleep. I wake up every half an hour. Wet nurse-sleep. It's supposed to prepare you for the time after giving birth.

Cohen, who was already asleep, put the light on.

Just to see me jumping on one leg (the little toe hurts really bad) and covering my body with the sheets.

"Summer, what are you doing?"

He rolls over, bends and annuls the bottle. A very easy physical action - I'm not able to anymore.

"Are you alright?"

He looks concerned.

"Yeah. I gotta. Now turn off the lights! I'm just looking for my pj's-tent."

"Summer don't you think you hysteric?"

"Easy for you to say. You're not a ton."

"I still find you ... err... attractive."

I'm rumbling around. Where are those damn pajamas? I just got it out of a store for men oversize.

"You just say that..."

"No, it's true! Now let me put on the lights."

"Touch the switch and you're gone."

"But... "

"Cohen!"

He gives up. He won't risk another rage black out.

So, he finds me "errr, attractive". Uh huh. In former times he thought I was beautiful. At least he told me from time to time. But who likes a pot-bellied pig that walks on two legs? Besides George Clooney (Sebastian) and maybe a pot-bellied boar.

* * *

Since the sixth month of my pregnancy I'm looking into the world with other eyes. How do heavy-weighting couples have sex. It's hard enough if just one is fat like a ton. 

Well Cohen and I solved the problem very elegant. We don't have sex at all. Since weeks. I just don't want anymore. It's not very sexy, if we do it in spoon style and the little one is kicking at the front.

We cuddle. It's nice, too.

The only question:

How long is a man able to survive without sex?

Or rather Cohen?

A Three weeks?

B Three days?

C Three seconds?

And: how long can I?

I guess if men are honest and women are not completely naive, answer C wins.

But everything will be different when I had the baby. We will be used to having no sex so we won't even notice.

With that calming thought, I fall asleep.

* * *

"Can't you talk about anything else? I thought we agreed that we don't talk about your pregnancy. God I swear you already one of this stupid twerps who can't talk about anything beside babies, diapers and contractions. Don't you realize that?" 

I can't believe she just said that. We only used to say that about the others in the past.

Coop and I take a walk at the beach.

Okay it's true. I've been talking about contractions for the last ten minutes (there was already a small contraction on the monitor, but that was just something called Braxton-Hicks-contraction).

But all Coop was talking about were the new textures of next season. It seams like we can't find a combined topic.

"Being pregnant is just a big subject. There isn't much stuff for anything else."

Coop's glancing at my belly.

"Seems so. Maybe, once you have the baby, all you're able to do is baby talk."

I stop and look at her.

"Did you ever notice that all you talk about is your job? It's always the same, too."

"At least there's something going on in my life?"

"Really! What's that? All the guys your screwing are absolutely replaceable. Maybe you're just jealous."

Her mouth drops.

For a second the world stands still.

Coop and I are fighting. Seriously. Suddenly I feel all lonely.

That was bound to happen. I lost contact to every girlfriend that got pregnant during the last few years. All those chicks could talk about were there brats. And the interests just changed.

Is that what will happen with me and Coop? I lie my hands down on my belly while I watch Coop walking away.

I'm having a baby.

Will I lose my best friend?

* * *

I just roll myself out of _Baby GAP_. With ninety nine dollars less and a ultra hip diaper bag. The fight with Coop just pissed me of so bad that I prescribed myself shopping for therapy. 

And the next shock is about to come. In the coffee-shop across the street I see Cohen with some lanky blond. Alexis?

Out of reflex I hide behind a pillar. You can probably see parts of my belly on both sides.

My heart is racing. High blood pressure. It happens a lot during pregnancy.

I'm sure that's just some kind of colleague. Cohen is not a cheater. I'm the one for him, he loves me, we have a great marriage. (I think so - hopefully - sometimes)

Maybe he isn't ready to spend his nights at a crib instead of a bar. Maybe he isn't ready to be a father. Maybe I should have listen to him when he said he wasn't ready. Maybe I shouldn't have set down the pill. Maybe we should've had more sex. Maybe I should stop worrying.

I should be a real woman get my fat pregnant ass over there and greet him with a sweet "Hi Darling!" and just sit between them.

When I look again they're gone. They are probably shagging in some storeroom right now. Rolling over each other. Do position I haven't been able to in months. Eat each other up...

I take a deep breath and look again. There still sitting there. Laughing. Cohen is clearly flirting.

And that leaves just one explanation: She isn't a colleague. She's Alexis.

I'm moaning.

"Oh my God! That women has contractions! ... I knew it ... stay calm. We're going to help you... Just breathe! ... oh my God ... that's what you get out of straight-sex..."

In front of me I see a gay shop assistant out of the shoe shop across the street with dyed blond hair. He almost keels over. Out of his Prada-slippers.

"Get a ambulance, Tommy! God if she starts to bleed I'll tip over... I think it's the best if you get a second one!"

"Hey! I'm not that fat!", I protest.

"The second one is for me Sweetie!"

After I resolved that misunderstanding, before they called 911, he released back the street. But not without present me a pair of Pravda-baby-shoes and telling me concerned "You really should take it easy!"

Now Cohen and the blond chick are really gone. Great.

* * *

"How was your day, dear?" 

Cohen stands in the door with two cartons of pizza in his hand. He's looking at me like he just had a happening.

"What's going on? Don't you feel well? Or have you been watching _The Valley_ all day?"

"Why?"

"Cos you sound like somebody wrote you a dialog. You never asked me that."

I shrug my shoulders. So what? You can change your life every day. And my life is changing a lot these days.

"Dinner is almost ready."

Cohen puts a hand on my forehead.

"You don't feel warm. Maybe a attack of nesting."

I'm turning sulky.

"I just thought we could have a nice evening."

Cohen's opens a bottle of beer, smirking.

"You know I really like your pregnancy. It makes you homely."

I smile.

Idiot! Homely... what else can you do when you're eight months pregnant? Dancing through the clubs is out of question. But it looks like my pregnancy turns out the opposite on him.

We sit down.

"I didn't know you could cook that delicious."

Oh you liar!

"Tell me, Sweetie. Do you work on something special?"

"Well... munchies... boy, I'm hungry."

"Now tell me!"

"Since when are you interested in comic books?"

"I just thought... we will be parents. We should know everything about each other..."

"Sum, we know each other since high school and are married for seven years now."

"But I just feel like I have to get to know you better! So tell me: Where you in office all day?"

"Of course."

"I just thought... maybe you were out for a coffee or for shopping..."

He shakes his head and looks at me pity full. He gives me his "the-pregnancy-made-her-insane"-look.

"I don't really have time for shopping and stuff... I have do support our family... Now is there more beer?"

He gets up and starts looking.

Of course. We don't have time for that... That was clearly a lie. I watch him opening another beer.

Do I really know him? Maybe he's some sort of double agent. And he has another wife and four kids.

Maybe he's some kind of porn star.

Maybe I've got a problem.

Damn.

* * *

Cohen's alarm goes off at seven thirty in the morning. 

He leans in to kiss me.

"Stay in bed honey. It's your day off. You shouldn't be working at all. Take it easy."

I mumble something and act like I'm still asleep.

But I'm awake for hours. Stay in bed! You would like that, wouldn't you? So you can meet with lanky blonds in coffee-shops.

When he leaves the house a half an hour later, my time has come. I roll myself out of bed and get up groaning. I make it in less than five minutes. New record!

Once I'm up I start with my morning-routine.

- Five minutes of breast- and pluck massage

- Showering - ice-cold at the end to protect myself of varices and to get my nipples bite-resistant

- Put on nursing-bra (what happened to my beautiful lingerie? Sigh.)

- Put on my elastic stockings (I'd never believe I'd say that, but I can't live without them anymore, my legs are swollen after two steps without them)

- Put on the same pants for like the hundreds time (nothing else fits anymore)

- Have yogurt and cereals for breakfast (so I and Honey don't tip over)

Two hours later we're finally finished. Aside from the shoes. I always thought it was a bad joke but I can't tie my shoes anymore. Since it's to cold to go without socks I slip into my flip-flops with thick socks under them. After five minutes on the street my brain is working again and I go back home to change them in for a pair of boots. Normally Cohen helps me to get them on but today I gotta do it by myself.

At 12:24 I'm finally finished.

I squeeze myself into the car. My belly and the sport-seats don't really like each other. If I could I would just demount the steering wheel.

Shit! I forgot something.

My hospital bag. In case I get contractions in the middle of the mall. I don't wanna buy anything allover again.

My love for a huge purse is the only thing that didn't change. Just the contents are different

From CUC (coitus utensils case) to BUC (birth utensils case).

Instead of rubbers, nursing pads.

Instead of aspirin for the morning after, glucose to keep up during birth.

Instead of thongs for changing, huge cotton-underpants with even bigger sanitary napkins.

It's actually pretty comfortable here. I'm sitting in my car. Drinking some hot tea and eating a sandwich.

I parked across from Cohen's office building and I can see him through the huge windows.

Maybe I should become a P.I. It seems really fun.

No lanky blond yet.

Cohen is brooding over some drawings. Good boy.

Ah! He's moving! Moving. Of course I'm right behind him. And he hasn't noticed me till know. There are always two cars between us. Somewhere in the mall I lose him then. Damn!

* * *

"Nice desk. New?" 

Cohen jerks. He just came back in. I'm sitting in his swivel chair and pushing out my belly.

"I wanted to surprise you..."

"Eh... oh... eh... nice. You did!"

He winds like he does a belly dance and tries to hide something behind his back.

"I've been here for an hour."

"You are?"

"Yes. Where were you?"

"You want some water?"

He pours some orange juice into a glass, half of it lands on the desk. Interesting. Very interesting.

He tries to hide the plastic bag behind the glasses. There's probably underwear in it. And shower foam. I once read that it's really important, at cheating, to use the same as you do at home. So you don't smell different.

I'd say my visit is a direct hit.

"Your secretary didn't know where to find you."

"Do you want some cookies. I think I have some anywhere..."

He's looking through his file cabinet. Oh. So this is about cookies.

"Where were you?"

"Where I were?"

"Yes."

"I met a client."

"A client?"

"Yes for lunch."

"For lunch?"

"At the crab shack."

"The crab shack?"

"Yes?"

"That's funny because I just saw you at the mall."

"At the mall?"

"Yes."

I'm curious how he'll get out of this. He's so busted.

Suddenly he looks at me.

"What were you doing at the mall?"

Damn! The son of a lawyer again.

Attack is the best defense.

"Shopping..."

"But didn't you say you couldn't walk three steps with your belly? And we already have everything for the baby."

"I just felt like it..." I shrug my shoulders.

"What did you buy?"

"Chocolate. We didn't have any at home and I really wanted some."

"Really? Interesting."

I look into his eyes without batting an eye.

"Okay... I was at the mall. I'm guilty."

"Oh."

I'm starring at him. I busted him. I guess that's it. He'll tell me he wants a divorce any second.

But instead he goes back to his shelve and pulls two beautiful wrapped up boxes out of the bag.

He hands me one.

"For you."

"What it is?"

"Open it!"

A nursing bra out of black lace. Amazing. In that, my boobs will look like Sophia Lorens in her best times.

And then the other one.

"For Honey."

A pink little plastic horse.

"I was shopping. I wanted to surprise you tonight. I thought that it's about time for Captain Oats and Princess Sparkle to have their own offspring."

I flung my arms around his neck.

"Kiss me, Baby!"

I love him.

* * *

_Please, review guys! Pleeeeaaaaseeeee!_


	9. Ninth Month Part 1

_Okay, guys... here's chapter nine... I'm gonna split it up into three parts. And just that you know... (considering I get a lot of hits but not many reviews) I'll not update untill I get more than **FIVE REVIEWS**. Call it blackmail if you want... I call it self-help lol. To motivated you to review even more I'll also leave you with a huge cliffhanger this chapter! lol I'm mean I know!_

_I don't own anything!_

* * *

Nine months

If you're as big as me it's even harder to believe. Even if I know it since the first appointment at my gynecologist. And somehow I just refuse to believe that. They just add a month.

What a mess!

In the past your pregnancy lasted nine months. Full stop.

It was the same with my mother and her mother. Everyone knew: After nine months you'll just pop it out.

Everybody is able to count to nine:

One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine

It's so easy.

These days you are pregnant for ten months.

Maybe it's because the world is so screwed up today. The babies just don't want to come out. Just stay in there for another month.

Four weeks more! Four weeks! In my condition it feels like four years!

Cohen keeps telling me that it is a pure mathematically problem. The pregnancy only last ten months if you count it in weeks or in lunar months. It has only twenty-eight days then. But a month has at least thirty days and if you count that missing days...

I don't care!

I just don't wanna be pregnant anymore. And if it's just for nine minutes.

Nine seconds.

Nine nanoseconds.

Sight...

Unfortunately I'm gonna be pregnant for another seven weeks or 49 days or 1176 hours or 70560 minutes or I don't know how much seconds.

And if I am two weeks late I just gonna hang myself. Okay, there's probably no cord in this world that's strong enough to hold me.

But two weeks longer would be torture.

It's probably some kind of trick by mother nature. You getting so sick of your condition during the end you don't care under what terms or pain the baby comes out. Essential thing is that it comes out at all.

* * *

"Boston."

"Boston?"

"Exactly."

"Why do you have to go to Boston, now?"

"It's for business."

"I'm thirty seven weeks pregnant. I can't go to Boston either. I can't do anything at all. Not even tie my shoes."

"I got some clients there, that wants to talk to me today."

"But not in the middle of the night."

"Summer it will take me two days. Am I supposed to fly back and forth?"

"Yes."

"No."

"I'm pregnant."

"You won't keep me from doing my job."

"I don't keep you from anything. The baby does. It's yours too you know. Besides, you can go to Boston. You just can't stay over night."

"... do you want me to support you financial?"

"Yes. Cos I'm not gonna be able to work for the next few months. And even I wanted. Bull wouldn't let me."

"No one expects you to work."

"And no one expects you to stay in Boston over night."

"You are hysteric."

"You are ruthless."

"Don't queue up."

"I don't queue up. I'm pregnant."

"I know."

There's something in his voice I don't like at all.

Anyway, it's really interesting what image guys have of giving birth. You do it just on the side. Like brushing teeth.

Again nothing is changing for him, but everything is for me. I can't go out anymore, I can't work anymore, I can't do any sport, I can't dress the way I want to (because nothing fits anymore)... I could go on and on.

Nothing changes for Cohen on the other side.

He goes on with his job, flies to Boston whenever he wants to, can drink as much as he want to,...

And by the way he's becoming a father. But I'm trapped. For the next eighteen years at least.

"What's that supposed to mean?", I'm looking at him provoking.

"You've been pregnant since like ... ever. And as fatter you get, as stubborn you get."

"I'm not stubborn and if I am I got every right cos I'm pregnant."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"What?"

"Just because your pregnant doesn't mean you're always right..."

"I _am _always right! It doesn't matter if I'm pregnant or not."

Okay that was bullshit, but when I'm get upset, my brains just doesn't seem to work anymore.

"Summer."

"Cohen."

"I'm sick of hearing it!"

"What?"

"The word 'pregnant' and everything about it!"

"But I am and it's time for you to get that. I don't wanna be the only one who's life is changing."

"You're not - believe me! And I don't like it at all! I didn't even wanted a baby - not now at least. But nobody asked me!"

Ouch. That struck home.

He slaps the door behind him.

We really gotta paint that one...

* * *

Cohen slept in his office tonight and left in the morning with his baggage. He left a note to call him when it's time. He'll get into the next airplane.

Ooookay! Let's just say my water breaks at 3:41 am and let's also say I'm still able to call him then, till he's here we're celebrating Honeys first birthday.

But that's not the real problem right now. If I don't do anything soon, the birth is going to be our last shared experience.

That can't be happening! I have to talk to him. But he left his office already and his cell is turned off. I'm still in my pj's. But I have no time or my "I'm pregnant and wanna stay beautiful"-ritual. I just pull one of Cohen's sweaters over my pajama. There's also no time for putting on my sneakers. It would take me ages. So I slip into some high-heeled boots with a zipper. They're actually not suitably for a nine month pregnant lady but they're the only thing I can put on without help.

I also take Cohen's coat. It's all fluffy and smells like him.

I can't believe it. I'm sitting in the car, looking for a tissue in Cohen's coat-pocket and found a note.

_Christina 17 01-21 2:00 pm_

_Mary 18_

_Cecile 16 02-02_

_Natalie _

And it keeps going. At least ten girl names with numbers behind it. Some with little stars behind it. Some are crossed. Didn't bring it those ladies. Pah... Lady's... Girls, babies!

Cohen, you pig! I'm going to kill you!

You can't stand me being pregnant? Wait up! I'll show you what pregnant really means.

I start the motor and step on the gas.

* * *

I balance myself into the airport. How could I ever walk on that heels? My sense of balance got totally lost during the pregnancy. Maybe I should get myself a back bag filled with stones. That would equalize my honey belly.

Some people look at me disapproving.

Some old women in a jogging suit fizzed at her husband: "Not even ten o'clock and already drunken... really sad..."

I hear it anyway and stop for a second.

"I'm not drunken! I'm pregnant!"

She looks at me in shock: "Even worse! Did nobody tell you that alcohol isn't good for the baby! You cruel mother..."

I want to respond something but I don't have the time. Cohen's plane is leaving in a half an hour. So I hobble on.

Hurray! I made it to the check-in desk in time. But no Cohen. Maybe he stays here in Newport and let's all the girls show up at the hotel.

I get the note out of my pocket to throw it at him as soon as he arrives.

That's when I notice a small image at the edge.

_Au-pair Agency Mary Poppins/ Owner Alexis McQueen_

That's Alexis! The number fits.

Oh my god! I was so stupid!

Au-pair Agency!

God I was stupid!

Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!

Cohen is a darling! He wanted to organize a childcare for Honey. So I can take the job at Vogue. I love him! He's the best husband ever! And he'll be a great father.

Oh Cohen!

I was so stupid and so difficult and all you wanted to do was to help.

I'm so touched, my eyes get all teary.

And then I see him through a fog of tears.

He's making out with lanky blond from the coffee-shop.

* * *

_You know the deal! FIVE REVIEWS! ;)_


	10. Ninth Month Part 2

_So blackmail is the way to get you people to review... Good to know! I'm gonna set the same limit for this chap.** Five reviews at least or no update**. lol I'm cruel I know! But it's just important for me to know what you think about my story._

_And of course a big thanks to everyone who reviewed! You're guys are just great! Keep on going:)_

_I don't own anything!_

* * *

**Ninth Month**

I'm home again. Don't ask me how I got here. I probably crossed nine red lights and killed three walkers. If I had a gun, I couldn't guarantee for anything.

And no court in this world would pronounce me guilty.

I'm heavily pregnant and humiliated.

I'm looking into a mirror. I look terrible. This whole world is terrible.

And I had to put a child into it. Okay not completely put almost.

I imagined my little family like out of a commercial for yogurt. I know I'm kind of naive but women also buy anti-aging-lotion...

And then I sit down and do the one thing I can do the best: I cry.

I cry for three whole hours, till Honey kicks me and tells me that the amniotic fluid gets less and her pool drys out. I sniff for a last time.

Self-pity is so wrong!

I've made my bed, now I have to lie in it. I wanted a baby. I set down the pill secretly. I didn't ask him. He's right about that...

So maybe I pushed him into the arms of that lanky blond...

But: I love Honey! No matter what!

We will get through this together...

Sniff! I can't really think about stuff like holidays... After all I'm a single-mother now. And Honey will be passed around, from the Cohen's to the Roberts and so on...

Sniff.

I pull myself together now.

I'm writing him a letter. I can't face him right now. I always got the imaging of him making out with that slut.

_Dear Cohen,_

_I was at the airport, by accident, because I wanted to talk to you. And I saw you with that other women, by accident._

_You're cheating on me and I have to tell you that I was too. Honey wasn't an accident. I set down the pill without your knowledge and it seems like you're not ready to be a father..._

A few tears smear the ink. That looks so melodramatic. I'm not a crybaby! I'm a example for braveness and strength. I'm a single mother! And he's the one making out with somebody else! What does he think?

Okay, again:

_Dear Cohen,_

_yadayadayada... I don't wanna be in the way of your future happiness. After all it's all my fault..._

Nah! Not good! It's to late to change anything about the baby-thing. Cohen, that dick face could have done something about birth-control, too.

Maybe I should get a little bit straighter:

_Dear Cohen, _

_I saw you at the airport with that thin, flexible, not-pregnant chick..._

Or even better:

_Dear Mr. Seth Ezekiel Cohen,_

_my lawyer will get in touch with you next week, concerning the aliments._

_Your disrespectfully_

_Summer Roberts and Lilly Roberts _(at least she gets the name I want, now!)

Very good. But now I'm really creative.

_Dear Cohen,_

_I was at the airport. Fck whoever you want. Mainly you pay alimony, for me and your daughter, in time..._

God, I'm good!

_Cohen, you fcking bstrd! _

_How can you screw another women while I give birth to our daughter, in pain... The fruit of our love..._

Ouch! That one brings me back to the floor. I was the one cheating on him in the first place. Or at least lying to him.

Clearly that can't end good.

But I can't sit here and wait for him to return while he shags some bitch in Boston and act like nothing happened when he returns. I crease all drafts up and burn them at the fireplace.

I leave him a small note at the kitchen table.

_I saw you at the airport._

_Summer_

Then I get my hospital bag and two maternity pants and leave. It's about time I take control over my life again.

* * *

"I don't care if she has a meeting! I have to talk to her right now!"

Dr. Helmsman's assistant looks at me like she expects me to explode any minute. I stretch out my belly challenging.

I'm standing at _Vogue_ and don't hide anything anymore. Let them all see what's going on! I'm gonna be a successful single mother! Honey is gonna be so proud of me!

And a fake blond with a waist of two inches volume isn't going to stop me.

"I'm sorry but I can't let you to Dr. Helmsman right now."

"I want this job so much and I will manage it without problems. I'll hire four nannies and even ask my step-mom to babysit in emergency's. You'll see: The baby won't be a problem at all!"

I'm standing in front of Dr. Helmsman. I just rolled over her assistant.

"How the hell did you get pregnant, that fast?"

I shrug my shoulders.

"I'm sorry but we decided for someone else. I thought you already knew."

What! I can't believe that.

"That's discrimination! Of course you gave the job to a man! They don't get babies! That's unbelievable! You're a shame for all women! You should support our gender not stifle us!"

Dr. Helmsman pushes me into a chair.

"Calm down! This isn't good for your baby!"

"I will not calm down! I flip out any time I want!"

"The _woman _that got the job is mother of three. The youngest is one year old. I'm sorry, but your just weren't qualified. Maybe next year...when somebody leaves because of pregnancy."

I reach my car under tears. Dr. Helmsman wishes me and the baby well. She has a daughter herself.

I can call her anytime I need help, but she can't offer me a job right now.

Where should I go now? I don't wanna go home. I still don't feel well. I want to be spoiled. I want room-service and a huge bath-tub.

* * *

I actually wanted to go to the hotel but somehow I'm in front of Coops apartment house. No idea how I got here. I stay in the car for a few minutes.

The hotel can wait.

No husband.

No best friend.

No job.

Nothing.

That's when Honey kicks me. She reminds me that she's still there. We're a team.

Once I'm hear I can ring, too.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's me the stupid pregnant twerp..."

The buzzer goes and the door opens.

There are moments in life when you realize if a friendship is really a friendship.

* * *

Coop looks at the way I'm standing in front of her. Freezing, with red swollen eyes.

I pull the oxygen mask of my face (she lives in the penthouse - fifth floor and the elevator is always damaged - for women in my condition it feels like climbing the Mount Everest) and she hugs me wordless.

Well, she tries... the belly is kinda in the way.

And then I sit there, in front of a mountain of tissues with a cup of tea in my hands, still sniffing.

"I just felt so fucking lonely, and then we had that fight, so stupid, and now I caught Cohen making out with that chick, he's in Boston by now while I'm about to explode, and I can't even blame him. It was me who set down the pill, without asking him, I'm such a twerp... I know that was wrong but I just wanted a baby, actually I just wanted to try it ... who thought it worked? ... everything is based on a lie and I can't take it anymore... And then you... all we've been doing since I'm pregnant is fighting, and I just didn't know where to go... I could go to my Dad but that didn't seem like such a good idea, with the step-monster and everything... I turned into a tolder ... and I..."

I start to weep unrestrained. I thought I reached my stint today. I grab another tissue.

"I'm a twerp. A stupid not-pregnant twerp."

That was Coop.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I left you all by yourself, Sum."

"Left me by myself?"

The crying stops for a second.

"You needed me during the pregnancy and I wasn't there. I was being egoistic..."

"You weren't egoistic. You just weren't pregnant, that's all."

"I was egoistic. I was envious. I was sad. And hurt. And jealous. And fucking stupid... but above all that..."

She looks at me out of big blue eyes.

"Above of all I was pregnant myself."

And then she starts to sob. Unrestrained.

I'm looking at her. Coop and pregnant?

"How did that happen?"

(Maybe the most stupid question of the world.)

"When did that happen?"

"And why didn't you tell me?" (A bunch of stupid questions.)

I hug her. (Well, I try, but the Honey belly is in the way.)

"Oh Coop... So what? You're pregnant. Everything will be fine! We'll be roommates and set up a baby-living-community. Just be happy! Everything is wonderful."

Coop sobs against my shoulder.

"I'm not pregnant anymore... I'm not for a long time ... that's the problem... It happened over a year ago... It was Ryan's ... but then Theresa showed up with her son and he left ... I just didn't know what to do ... at first I thought I just have it... but then I tipped over... and I thought I could take an abortion easily. It isn't something big those days. I couldn't be a single mother..."

Coop sobs and sobs and sobs.

At first she was really relieved. And then a few months later it happened. She bursted into tears every time she saw a baby. Always counting what age her baby would be.

"I couldn't pass a buggy without crying ... and then it switched completely. I just closed down. Screwed a lot of guys and keep on telling me I really enjoy it. But then you got pregnant, and I just couldn't handle it. You having a baby and I don't. I kept thinking about what age it would be by now and if it could say "Mommy" by now. And I was so mean to you... even if nothing was your fault..."

"Oh Coop... I'm so sorry. But it's completely okay if you weren't ready for a baby. It was your decision. You don't have to feel guilty for anything. I understand. I'd never reproached you in any way. I would've helped you... And I'm sure the baby would understand, too. Sometime it just don't works out..."

"You really think the baby understands?"

"Of course, sweetie... you just have to talk with it... apologies, tell it you weren't ready... you can have another one... just forgive yourself."

Coop looks at me and then we burst into tears together.

We swear to tell each other everything in future.

Tear-stained and released we fall asleep next to each other.

* * *

"I have enough of Summer!" Coop bites into a bagel energetic. "She's just beyond all bearing, since she's pregnant! I just don't want to deal with her anymore!"

I cut a banana into my cereals and am just delighted.

"That's exactly the way you're telling him. He'll understand perfectly."

Coop's great.

"But you have to work on the tone of your voice. And if he calls you, you just tell him, you didn't see me and you don't wanna see me. Let him just worry his ass off!"

"He's never gonna buy it."

"Babe, _you_ can make men buy everything."

She nods with a smirk and takes a sip of her coffee.

* * *

"Sweetie I'll be back at eight at least... and then the two of us, sorry, the three of us...", she pets my melon. "... will start for the beach house. We'll have a great weekend. I'm going to spoil you... massage your feet and introduce Honey to _The Clash_. It'll be fun. You'll see."

Coop gives me a peck on the cheek. We'll go to the beach house out in nowhere she inherited from her grandmother. We've been going there for years, every time we were sick of the guys.

But I'm not really sure if I want Coop to play _The Clash _to my baby. I just don't want it to be so angry all the time.

"You really should rest, sweetie."

I will, mom.

* * *

I take a hot bath.

Then I take another hot bath.

And after three other hours I take another hot bath.

The bath tub is the only place in this world were I feel lightweight.

Shit. Coop just called. She won't be able to make it in time. So I guess we'll go to the beach house tomorrow.

Maybe I should take another bath? Coop has all that great aromatic stuff to pour in.

It rings at the door.

Who could that be? It's already six o'clock so it can't be the ups man...

I take a look out of the window! Damn! There is Cohen's car. Parked in the middle of the street.

I switch off all lights, just in case.

I'm not here.

Coop's not here.

Nobody's here.

Okay, that's kind of silly. We had a brightly lit apartment a few minutes ago. But maybe he didn't look up here.

It keeps on ringing.

I'm not opening. I'm not opening.

I need headphones right now. Maybe some Mozart. Or rather _The Clash_. I just can't find anything in the dark.

Bang. Rattle. Clink.

I just stumbled over Coops CD collection. They were organized in alphabetically. It's the one area Coop is duly (in my opinion nit-pick).

And I still haven't found headphones. Argh!

So I wrap Coops burberry-blanket around my head. A few fringes hang into my face. I never looked really good in square.

But if the ringing doesn't stop any time soon, I probably get contractions... or a tinnitus.

It stopped.

Heavenly silence.

I look down at the street. His car is gone. Thank god.

Okay, what I need now is another bath.

Just when I want roll my way back to the bathroom it suddenly knocks at the door.

"Marissa open up if you there! It's Seth... I need to see Summer... We had a fight and she's probably hiding at your place... come on open up! Marissa open up the damn door! I have to talk to Summer! ... It's important."

Fuck!

For a moment I'm retried to open the door. I'll just sink into his arms - and drop him to the floor with my huge weight.

He'll explain everything to me and it all will turn out as a big misunderstanding.

I didn't cheat on him - by setting down the pill - and he didn't cheat on me - with another women.

Everything will be fine.

We will be a happy family like from the yogurt commercial. We'll take walks at a beach. Together with our dachshund.

Dachshund? Why dachshund? I hate dachshunds!

* * *

Then the knocking stops. All I hear is steps hasting down the stairs. Whew! I got away this time.

The problem is just that I'm not really relieved.

I can't stay here any longer. And I can't reach Coop. The meeting is still going. Even her cell is off. That's really gotta be important.

So I decide to just decide to drive ahead to the beach house. Cohen will never find it. He's only been there once. And he doesn't really like the beach. Coop can follow me tomorrow. I just gotta be alone right now.

Even if that isn't really possible. At least not anatomical. Doesn't matter. So I'll be alone together with Honey.

I write Coop a note, get the keys for my car and the house and find myself confronted with a new problem. How do I get my hospital bag and my travel bag, downstairs? Coop carried them upstairs for me, but I really can't drag them downstairs again.

* * *

"Hey! Are you insane!"

"No pregnant!"

I almost stroke a Chihuahua dead. And the owner looks at me angry now. I always thought your supposed to carry this things around! It's her own fault!

I threw the bags (minus everything fragile) out of the window. Pregnancy gets you really smart.

It's a good thing I parked my car three blocks away. This way Cohen couldn't see it.

I squeeze myself behind the steering wheel. How drive women with twins or triplets in their stomachs?

* * *

It's dark by now. And I still have to drive over 40 miles till I arrive.

When I drive along on a highway, I start to think that this maybe wasn't such a good idea...

A look at the fuel-gage proves me. The tank is almost empty. And no gas station far and wide.

I just forget to fill up gas. Damn! What am I gonna do?

Now rain sets in.

Maybe I should turn and drive back to Newport.

Good idea. But now calm down, Summer. Calm down.

Okay, that's it. During my try to make a U-turn I drove into the roadside ditch and emptied the tank, completely. This can't be happening. The rain is still teeming down. I'm soaked after a pathetic try to push the car out of the ditch. I'm still hoping for a truck or something to pull me out. But nothing. No wonder with that lousy weather.

How embarrassing! I'm sitting in my car, the vehicle heater is working and I just peed my pants. That's just ... eww! That didn't happen since I was like three years old.

But then I realize that this isn't urine running down my legs. My water just broke.

And the next second a wave of pain is rolling over me.

* * *

_And another cliffhanger! ;) You guys hate me right now, don't you? lol_

_Well even if you do... I don't care as long as you review!_


	11. Ninth Month Part 3

_Thank you so much for all your reviews! I love them! And cos they were so great - here the third and last part of chap nine!_

_I don't own anything_

**

* * *

**

**Ninth Month - Part 3**

I try to breath and think "Yes, yes, Yes!" like I learned at the prenatal class but all I do is yelling "No, No, No!"

Cohen!

I grab my cell and dial Cohen's number.

"Seth Cohen. Hello?"

"Ooooooowwww!"

I just scream into my phone. Another contraction.

"Summer? Summer is that you?"

When I'm able to breathe again, I hear a peeping and the phone conks. Empty battery.

I'm a twerp. A stupid pregnant twerp. I'm going to give birth to Honey on some highway in nowhere.

And I'm alone. Oh God no!

But cows calves by them self two, right?

* * *

I'm kneeling on all fours at the backseat of my car. And pant at every contraction (they come all four minutes now and I really start getting nervous now), curse god, curse sex, curse men and curse me above all, as somebody opens the door.

I stretch my butt into Cohen's face.

"Did you already have the baby?"

Coop stands behind him with a big towel in her hands. She probably has a tub full of hot water back at the car.

* * *

Coop drives like we are on the run. The next hospital is ten miles away. In emergency we could also drive to a vet, five miles away. Coop researched all of that. She really is very pragmatic sometimes.

Cohen pulled her out of her meeting a minute after my call. He threatened to make her mother move in with her if she wouldn't tell him where I am.

She confessed immediately (mercifully, I gotta say now). You gotta understand her. Her mother really is the devil!

When they arrived at Coops place they found my note and drove after me.

We slide over the highway.

"Hang on, Summer! Hang on!" Cohen sits on the backseat with me and holds my hand.

I claw my nails into his palms at every contraction.

Strangely I have no problems with hanging on. The contractions hurt like hell but between them I could joke around. There's probably a lot of endorphin running through my system right now. Otherwise you would just freak out while giving birth.

And it's nothing like I thought it'd be. I guess it depends from woman to woman anyway.

There was nothing before I was more afraid of then giving birth to Honey, but now it started, I'm totally calm.

During the pregnancy I felt like racing to a concrete wall without being able to pull the emergency brake.

After the third month there is no other way to get it out, but giving birth, either way.

It's not just lie next to you in bed one day. But now it's really starting and Cohen and Coop are with me, it's just wonderful. Exactly.

The only word coming to my mind is wonderful.

And somehow it's true.

No matter how... soon I'll hold Honey in my arms for the first time.

Cohen is all hysterical. Every time I whine, he does it with me. (Okay, that might be because of my nails clawing into his arm. Why should I be the only one to suffer?)

"Oh Summer I'm so sorry... owww... breathe, you've got to breathe... I was so stupid... I screwed up everything. All I wanted to do was surprising you with an Au-pair-girl for Honey, so you could do that job at Vogue... but then... I guess I was pregnant too in some way... my hormones just freaked... owww! That really hurt! Breathe, sweetie... Breathe... but I swear I didn't sleep with her... and I didn't fly to Boston, neither... when I was in the plane, all I could think about was you and the baby... and the way you would sit at home with your round belly... and I really didn't treat you that nice, the last few days... I mean you're pregnant... you got every right to be moodily... you caring our child, all by yourself... well, I guess _American Airways _will never let me in again, after the way I acted today... they were at the taxiway already..."

To be honest, he could also tell me that he shagged the complete female water-polo-team of Harbor. I wouldn't care. The main-point is he being here right now holding my hand.

I claw my nails in deeper and pull him down to me.

"Just promise me one thing! Fuuuuck!"

"Everything, Sweetie! I'll never even look at another woman again, I'll never cheat on you! And I put my dirty plates right into the dishwasher..."

"Oh forget it! Ooowww! Just promise me... owww, that I get an anesthesia! Right now!"

* * *

I love the anesthetist. I want to marry him. He's the greatest man on earth. I still feel the contractions, but they don't hurt anymore. It's like riding roller coaster without vomiting. Like eating a lot of ice-cream without getting fat.

I send Coop and Cohen out to get them selfs some coffee. They look still pretty pale. Maybe they rather get a drink.

I just feel wonderful.

* * *

Unfortunately, Honey doesn't. Her heart tones get less. A friendly smiling assistant medical director pleads for a c-section. Cohen comes back and gets even paler after that message. Coop fell asleep fell asleep out of exhaustion.

Then everything happens pretty fast. The anesthetist gives me another injection (I notice now that he's almost bald and has a lot of hairs coming out of his nose - I've got to rethink the whole marriage-thing), and then they slice up my belly with me in total conscious.

I'm starring against a blue wall and Cohen (with breathing protection and cap) strokes my cheeks. He also looks incredible sexy. Maybe he should become a doctor.

I'm really groggy. The painkillers work like a charm. No wonder after nine clean months.

And then I hear it.

A small cry.

It sounds like she's complaining. That's mamas girl...

Her first cry. Amazing.

While the doctors stitch up my belly, somebody lies down Honey next to me.

I'm looking into her eyes.

Hi! I'm your mommy!

I still can't believe it.

And she looks at me like we've known each other forever like we know out of a former life.

* * *

Shortly after that we're back at the delivery-room.

Cohen and me. The three of us.

Coop only takes a short look at her and draws back after that decent. But tomorrow she'll be the first to visit us and she won't let go Honey for at least an hour. After all she is her godmother.

Everything is quiet.

The light is damped.

Honey lies in my arms, washed up and wired in a blanket.

It turned out that she's quite a girl.

She weights 8 lbs 1 oz. And she is totally healthy.

Passed through all test with ten of ten possible points.

I'm just gonna announce her at Harvard.

* * *

Incredible.

I can't stop looking at her. I also can't stop smelling at her. She smells so incredible. Like cinnamon, marzipan and roses.

She's a miracle.

She's wonderful.

No idea where she comes from. Only by part out of my belly. Somehow I'm convinced she just fell from heaven right into my arms.

Incredible.

She wanted me and Cohen as parents. That's a big honor.

I hope we'll be worth it.

Oh damn! She's just here for a half an hour and I think we gonna need another one.

Cohen strokes her head carefully and then he looks at me. "I think we gonna need another one" He tells me with a reckless smirk.

Somehow I'm smirking, too. Honey does sweet, little baby noises.

"Alright - but you do the next pregnancy."

Cohen kisses me. And then he kisses Honey very carefully.

Honey pees on Cohen out of excitement.

I love Cohen. I love Honey.

And I'm happier then I ever was.

THE END

_- no, not quite yet... ;)_

"Hey!"

I jerk out of my dreams. Somewhere inside my head Honey already graduated from high school and was about to leave for Yale. Next to my bed, I spot Cohen with her in his arms.

"What?" I ask him groggily.

"We forgot to name her!"

Yeah, because we were fighting over names for the past five months.

Is it absolutely necessary to wake me at two in morning, when I just was sliced up? If I would do that to him. He's not even addressable anymore, after he sneezed once.

"Can't we talk about that tomorrow? I'm totally exhausted!", I tell him without taking my eyes off Honey.

"Well, it's bad luck if she isn't named within five hours after she was born."

"Who told you that crab?"

Quickly he covers my mouth with his hand: "No swearing in front of my daughter!"

"Your daughter? I believe I'm the one who'll have a scarf on her stomach!"

Maybe it's the fading away of the anesthesia or the lack of sleep, but suddenly I feel all aggressive again.

"Okay, our daughter. But still we need a name!"

"We don't have to choose a name right now...",

"Yes, we do! Come on! Both of us choose a name. Tell me yours."

"Fine."

I sit up in bed and take Honey in my arms. She's asleep.

"I think she looks like a Chloe."

"Chloe... ", he nods smiling.

"What's yours?"

"Chloe."

"We're good", I kiss him on the lips.

"Yes we are. The two of us... and Chloe, of course."

* * *

_Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please review!_


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